


Mesabi Ferrum

by Zoonr



Series: Mesabi Ferrum Universe [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alien Human Hybrids, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, DSR, F/M, Grays, MSR, Post-Invasion, Post-Season/Series Finale, Spooky Awards, X-Files Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 151,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoonr/pseuds/Zoonr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2012 and Earth is about to get hit with the "s**t storm of all time." As Mulder and Scully race to find their son, William, and save him from the impending alien invasion, the aliens unleash an unspeakable plague on mankind while engrossed in their own civil war.  Meanwhile, Gibson Praise and others in the 'World of X' are learning that you have to have a pretty big ring to hold all those keys to the X Files.</p><p>Third Place "Best WIP" 2004 Spooky Awards</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a story that was finished in 2006 and posted at my website: http://zoonr.tripod.com/
> 
> The story includes discussions and interpretations of various Native American and other religious mythologies. I conducted extensive research, however ultimately this is a work of fiction and some creative license was taken with regard to these themes. I intend no offense to anyone whose beliefs I may have contradicted. I have only respect for all of the real world beliefs discussed within this story. In addition, I am not a doctor, a pathologist, a microbiologist or even remotely any other type of scientist. I promise that I have not taken any more creative license with science than was taken within the television show itself.

TITLE:  Mesabi Ferrum

AUTHOR: Zoonr

EMAIL: zoonr@hotmail.com

DISTRIBUTION: *NO ARCHIVE*.  I’ll post to the normal places, anywhere else, please link to my site http://zoonr.tripod.com/  (and let me know first). 

SUMMARY:  It's 2012 and Earth is about to get hit with the "s**t storm of all time." As Mulder and Scully race to find their son, William, and save him from the impending alien invasion, the aliens unleash an unspeakable plague on mankind while engrossed in their own civil war.  Meanwhile, Gibson Praise and others in the 'World of X' are learning that you have to have a pretty big ring to hold all those keys to the X Files.

DISCLAIMER:  This work contains characters and situations of the television series "The X-Files," which are the creations and intellectual property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and FOX Broadcasting Co. The author makes no claim to ownership over these elements, and this work should be distributed only in a free manner without promoting monetary gain.  Any reference to actual government agencies is purely fictional and based on the fictional version of the agency depicted in the television series "The X Files."  All content relating to real persons, places or entities is the sole product of the author and was acquired by coincidence, not with the intent to resemble actual practices, opinions or policies and not with the approval of any such entity.  For specific reasons, I had to say ALL of that… sorry for such a mongo disclaimer!

SPOILERS: Specifically "William" and "The Truth" but it covers the entire series.

RATING: R  (Sexual situations, graphic imagery, language)

CATEGORY: S, X, R, A

KEYWORDS: MSR, Pre/Post Colonization, Post Series, DRR

POST DATE: 10-16-2004

MY NOTES:  The story includes discussions and interpretations of various Native American and other religious mythologies.  I conducted extensive research, however ultimately this is a work of fiction and some creative license was taken with regard to these themes.  I intend no offense to anyone whose beliefs I may have contradicted.  I have only respect for all of the real world beliefs discussed within this story. In addition, I am not a doctor, a pathologist, a microbiologist or even remotely any other type of scientist.  I promise that I have not taken any more creative license with science than was taken within the television show itself.   

FEEDBACK: Loved and feared at zoonr@hotmail.com

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Mesabi Ferrum

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The wind howled as it whipped through the trees, swirling over and around the boy standing among them.  To William, the wind sounded less animal and more human; like a child screaming.  A nylon flag graced by a white buffalo flapped violently overhead, snapping itself like a firecracker.  The cold, damp air covered William with a thin film of moisture, and he shivered, fear chilling him more than the elements.  Ten yards in front of him to his left a twig broke and he turned to see a rabbit scamper off into the cover of the brush.  He wished he were that rabbit, free to flee, to adhere to its instinct to hide.  Instead, William's feet felt like concrete blocks, heavy and embedded into the soft earth below him.

The forest was dark, except for a peculiar glow coming from some undefined origin deeper in the foliage.  The light spread out in a ball, distorted, blurred and soft from the mist.  If he could touch it, William imagined the light would feel fuzzy, like balls of cotton.  Out of the light, there came a man whom William did not recognize.  As the man walked towards him, William again tried to lift his feet, but his legs felt disconnected from his body.  He knew something was about to happen that he'd rather not be around to witness. 

Worse yet was the feeling that another pair of eyes were on him.  Someone else watched him intently from the brush, but William could not see who--or what--it was.  He only felt a presence.  The feeling both comforted and terrified him, a contradiction he didn't bother to analyze.

The man, now only a few feet away, stopped.  William could not clearly see the features on his face, yet he knew he had seen the man before.  The man turned around towards the light and lifted his arms up to the sky, as if he wanted to embrace the stars that loomed somewhere behind the thick, gray clouds.  The wind blew even harder, and William leaned forward to keep himself upright, squinting as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

The ball of light moved.  It rose up from the cover of the underbrush, the light radiating from somewhere inside something metal and mechanical.  As the light climbed higher, the clouds cleared, finally revealing a sleek, circular spacecraft.  It hovered overhead, bathing William and the man in a bluish light.  William turned towards the man, but the man no longer stood nearby.  William looked up and saw that the man had been lifted into the light.  He floated like a puppet on a string towards the ship with his arms still raised as though he were embracing the empty space between him and the source of the light.

Finally, William found his legs.  He would not be next.  He had to escape before it was too late. 

After one final look up, William turned away from where the ship had risen, and he just ran.

^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 20, 2012

2:20 am

"What is it, Will?  Another bad dream?"  The boy stood in the doorway.  The dull light of the full moon danced on the floor as it came in through the large window near the bed, but William stood in the shadow just beyond the light’s reach.  Rob blinked the sleepiness away from his eyes, and lifted himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his son.  If he could have seen William’s face clearly, he would have recognized the reddish-tint in the boy's cheeks, more pronounced now than it was naturally.  In spite of the embarrassment he knew his son felt at running into mom and dad’s bedroom because of a bad dream, twelve-year-old William hovered in the doorway, looking unsure of his decision to interrupt his parents at this late an hour.  His dreams were coming more frequently and Rob saw the fatigue in his son’s eyes.

"What was it this time?"

"Same as last night," Will said quietly, rubbing his hand over the wooden doorframe.  Rob had noticed a distinctive change in his son's personality in the last few weeks.  Normally, William was energetic, eager to learn, always questioning what he didn't understand.  Lately, he had withdrawn.  Rather than rush out to play ball with his friends after dinner, he retreated into his room, shutting himself from his parents and the world.  If William were a little older and cavorted with a rougher crowd of boys, Rob might have been concerned he was using drugs.  But Rob Van De Kamp knew his son much better than other fathers knew their sons, which was why he was worried.

Not long ago, William had mentioned having strange and disturbing, recurring dreams that would awaken him in a cold sweat.  It had been many years since William had habitually crept into the bedroom Rob shared with his wife, Susan, wishing to wrap himself up in the cocoon of safety between them.  But lately, it had become an almost nightly affair. 

"Well, come on in, then… if you can stand the noise.  Mom's sawing logs again."  Rob gave a weak smile, and patted the empty spot in the spacious king-sized bed beside him.  "Do you want to tell me about it?"

William shook his head as he crawled over Rob and slipped under the covers. 

"It might help if you talk to me."

William seemed to consider that for a moment, and even opened his mouth slightly on the verge of speech.  Then he quickly pursed his lips together and inhaled deeply through his nose, shifting his gaze downward.  "I don't want to, Dad."

"All right then.  I won't force you.  But, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.  Right here next to the foghorn."  Rob brushed his fingers over William's cheeks.  Then he pulled the covers up a little higher over them both, and slid lower down the bed.  He didn't want to push William more than Rob knew he could handle.  Will would talk to him when he was ready.  Rob had always been close with his son, and until recently William seemed destined to be one of those rare children who would actually confide in his parents when worried or under stress.  So, instead Rob laid back, closed his eyes, and finally fell asleep in spite of the rough sound of Susan's breathing. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Duluth, Minnesota

December 20, 2012

6:32 am

Dana Scully sat on the edge of the bed, methodically pulling on her wool socks, trying not to stir the man beside her.  The room was still dark, though in winter it always seemed to be dark, especially up here in the frozen north.  She never imagined spending her last days on earth here.  Why they hadn't just headed south to Mexico years ago sometimes escaped her.  Even now, she thought about getting in the truck and driving.  Her time in Mexico would be short, but at least it would be better than one more moment in this place, where for months on end the landscape was covered in a swath of white and the cold penetrated through her skin, to the bone and into her very soul.

She glanced over at Fox Mulder, sleeping on his side with his knees tucked up to his stomach.  She half expected him to have his thumb stuffed in his mouth to complete the image.  During the past few months, all he seemed to do was sleep.  They'd come to this town nestled on the banks of Lake Superior in their usual flurry.  Mulder was sure they'd find answers and she was sure to follow him.  But of course, as always, no answers had been found, and for the first time since she'd known him he'd sunk into what had become a paralyzing depression, nearly taking her with him. 

Truth was, they both had been heading in that mental direction for some time.  The fact that Mulder had arrived before her was surprising, but not shocking.  For ten years they'd been together nearly every hour of every day, unable to rely on anyone but each other.  It was one thing to have only each other, yet be able to live in the real world, with real jobs and a few real friends -- able to live in the world as yourself -- but it was a significantly different matter to be cut off from every shred of normalcy except for the company of one other human being, even if you loved that person as much as she loved Mulder.  Add to that the impending doom of civilization, the failure to prove to the world what would happen and the inability to find their son and one could say the last decade had been a bit of a downer. 

Their latest failure had been the last straw, and now they were almost out of time.

 Scully dropped her shoulders, wondering whether Mulder would even notice if she did head down to Mexico.  They'd barely spoken in the last few months, and when they did speak, it was either in short sentence fragments or in loud shouting contests leaving them both exhausted.  Their situation combined with the short daylight hours of winter had frazzled their nerves more than she ever imagined possible. 

Scully shook her head.  In spite of all that, deep down she knew he would notice if she left, no matter where she went.  He always noticed her, even now.  Though, it might take until she arrived at her destination before he realized she was gone.

"Where are you going?"  Mulder's groggy voice came from underneath the blankets, muffled and low.

"I'm going for a walk."

"It's six-thirty in the morning.  And freezing."

"I'll wear a hat."

"Wouldn't you rather wait until it's light out?"

Scully stood up quickly and whirled around.  Months of pent up silence spilled out making her sound angrier than she intended.  "No, Mulder, I wouldn't.  Damn it!  We may only have two days left.  There's no time to wait.  I'm going for a goddamn walk!"

"Oh," he said.  Her outburst seemed to do little.  "All right."

Scully sighed, feeling a twinge of regret.  She couldn't really blame him.  They'd failed.  For the past ten years, they'd tried everything they could think of to stop Colonization.  Truth be told, they hadn't come up with much.  They'd broken into government facility after government facility, destroyed experiment upon experiment, Scully had prayed to heaven and Mulder had shouted to the press.  Nothing had worked.  All of that aside, the only failure that mattered to them was the one she had thought about every day for more than ten years.

Scully glanced over to the nightstand where a picture stood in a stainless steel frame.  The photograph, slightly faded now, was of a smiling, downy-haired baby with big blue eyes staring up at her.  It was a moment frozen in time, a baby that would never grow up in the eyes of his parents, a symbol of past failure and irrevocable regret. 

She looked away from the picture and swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat.  She had spent the last decade wallowing in guilt and allowing Mulder to share in it.  It was useless.  All she wanted now was to soak in the last moments of this life before heading into the great unknown that was the next one.  Whatever that may or may not be.   

Scully sighed, "I'll be back soon."

"K." 

She headed out into the foyer of the tiny house they'd rented only a few months earlier.  Its owners were "summer people" and had little use for the house during the winter.  The wind off Lake Superior was brutal this time of year, and most of the people who visited from the Twin Cities had no desire to face an even colder winter in Duluth than they would at home.  They’d posed as writers and agreed to help with the maintenance of the property.  Mulder and Scully were able to get this place for a real bargain, paying only pennies for a place that during the summer would probably bring in a handsome income.  Considering their funds had almost completely dried up the house was a great find.  It was not always easy getting cash when you’re on every wanted poster in every post office in the United States. 

Scully grabbed her coat and hat and opened the door to what would be, in an hour or so, the second to last dawn she would probably ever see.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

7:20 am

Scully stomped her feet on the mat in front of the door, sending sticky clumps of snow falling gracelessly to the floor.  She removed her hat and her coat, hung them up neatly on the rack and headed towards the bedroom, expecting Mulder to still be sleeping in the bed where she left him.  She was going to have to wake him up, and she dreaded it.  She'd dreaded it a half an hour into her walk when the snow had begun to fall, tentatively at first until it grew into penny-sized, wet flakes.  The scene would have been beautiful, if it hadn't lodged a pit in her stomach the size of a plum.  She had turned around immediately and headed back toward the cabin.

She entered the cozy bedroom and glanced at the bed.  It was a comfortable queen sized bed; the frame was made of round cedar logs, sturdy and homey.  It didn't fit either of their personalities, but it reminded her of home nonetheless; of a time when she had her own bed, her own home, and she believed her future could be changed.  Of course, her immediate future was still unknown to her.  Would she eat pizza for dinner or make spaghetti?  The nuts and bolts of her life were still changeable.  Unfortunately, what she could no longer change was how everything would end.  More than ever she now wished she could go back in time and warn the woman she once had been not to take for granted simple pleasures she rarely allowed herself to indulge in:  A bath on a Saturday afternoon, walks on the National Mall during lunch breaks in springtime with the Japanese Cherry Blossoms in full bloom, sleeping in on Sunday morning and reading the paper in bed with Mulder.

But she couldn't go back and right now she wondered to where the occupant of this particular bed had wandered off.  Mulder seemed to be taking a break from hibernation.  The bed was unmade, but empty.

She turned her head towards the bathroom, where the door was open a crack.  She heard the rhythmic patter of water hitting the bathtub.  A second later, she heard the shower knob squeak and the sound of the curtain sliding over the metal rail.  He hadn't taken a shower in about two days, so this surprised her considering the state she left him in earlier.  He had seemed entrenched in the den he'd built himself, content to snooze away his remaining few hours.

Nearly twenty years earlier Scully had met Fox Mulder whose unrelenting passion to seek the truth at all costs had both, inspired her, infuriated her and been the main reason she found herself falling in love with him not long afterwards.  She couldn’t believe that same man would now willingly choose to sleep through the start of Colonization. 

She felt hopeful for a moment as she watched him emerge from the bathroom, steam following him into the bedroom.  He wore a towel around his waist and rubbed another haphazardly over his hair, creating a disheveled look that sent a shiver through Scully, reminding her of another time and place.  Those few short months before Mulder's abduction had brought many moments of 'firsts,' of letting loose butterflies within her she never knew existed. 

That was a lifetime ago.

He looked up. "Hey," he said, smirking.  She realized she was staring at him.  He had been wrapped up in three layers of clothing every day for months and seeing him fresh from the shower wearing only a towel produced a long dormant flutter within her.  "I thought I was getting a little ripe."

"You have no arguments from me," she said, clearing her throat and straightening herself a little, remembering why she had been trying to find him in the first place.  "Uh, Mulder.  It's snowing."

"Looks pretty," he said, turning his head to look through the window outside where large, drowsy flakes fluttered down to the ground.  She had hoped he would catch her meaning, but he showed no hint of recognition.  He just continued to stand in front of her, patting the towel over his body and hair, soaking up the moisture from his shower.

"It's snowing Mulder.  *Early.*  I think we should each take an injection."  She said it in her old, business-as-usual-Scully-tone, and braced herself for an argument.  At the very least she expected a drowsy lack of interest before he flung himself on the bed for another twenty years of slumber.

"So do I."  He threw the towel he held back into the bathroom, where it landed softly on the damp floor.  He quickly covered the clumped mess with the towel he wore around his waist and headed naked towards the dresser opposite the bed to search for a clean pair of boxers.

"You're agreeing with me?  No arguments?"

"I could probably come up with one if you're itching for a fight.  But I'd just be faking it."

"What happened?"

He slid on a pair of blue and gray flannel shorts, and turned towards her. 

"I had a dream."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWO

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 20, 2012

12:01 pm

John Doggett raised his hand, fist closed, poised to knock on the flimsy plastic door that separated him from the inside of the small, metal, bullet train-like trailer.  As he brought his hand down to strike, the door opened inward and Doggett’s arm swung impotently at the desert air. 

"Damn it.  I hate when you do that," Doggett said.  Despite it being December, he was hot and thirsty and if he saw one more cactus, he was going to pull out his gun and commit cactucide.  Too bad he’d flown and left the gun at home.  As many times as he’d made this trip, he still hadn’t gotten used to the wide-open spaces and traffic free sounds of the Southwest.  So far, this trip had been the worst yet, because the only flight he could get at such short notice had been a red eye into Tuscon.  He’d been driving for hours since landing.   

Gibson Praise, a short, stocky young man in his mid-twenties stood inside the trailer, a couple of steps, or about two feet above the ground, smugly staring down at Doggett.  His arms were crossed over his chest, and at that angle Doggett could only barely make out the long scar that crossed over the man's skull from ear to ear.

"I can't help it if it's one of the few forms of entertainment out here," Gibson said.

"Are you going to let me in, or what?  It's starting to rain out here," Doggett said, stepping up onto the steps, not waiting for Gibson to reply.

Gibson moved aside, and allowed Doggett to enter the place he'd called home for the past several years.

"It looks like we may need to build an ark out there.  Sky's darker than I've ever seen it.  Wind's starting to blow, too." 

"It's starting."

"That's what I'm saying.  It's gonna rain buckets," Doggett said, taking off his wet coat.

"I mean *it.*  *It's* starting."

"What?"  Understanding dawned and Doggett shook his head.  "No. Gibson, it's just a big thunderstorm.  Might be some flash flooding, but --"

"That's an understatement.  Have you checked the Weather Channel lately?"  Gibson extended his arm and pointed to the muted television, a bulky 20-inch tube model circa 2003.  The television sat on an old wooden crate in the trailer's tiny living room. 

Doggett moved around Gibson so that he could stand directly in front of the television.   "Turn it up."  Gibson grabbed the remote control and pressed a button with his thumb, increasing the volume level from 7 to 20.  Doggett peered down at the two-dimensional Weather Man, who stood in front of a computer generated, holographic map of the entire United States.

 "... unprecedented weather patterns.  This is definitely a historical day for meteorology.  Stay tuned to the Weather Channel for more on the unusual weather across the country."  The program faded into a commercial for laundry detergent, blasting a cheery tune at about twice the normal level.  Gibson turned the volume down again, and threw the remote on the sofa behind him.

"What?  It's raining everywhere?"  Doggett asked.

"Yep."

"So, besides it being freaky, what do you say is happening?"

"You know what I'm saying.  This is how it begins."

^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 20, 2012

12:17 pm

Susan Van de Kamp huddled near the fireplace, hands extended toward the flame in a near desperate attempt to get warm.  She'd been feeling progressively worse ever since the morning, after being caught outside in the rainstorm, trying to get the last remaining sheets off the clothesline.  She'd almost made it too, and then all hell had broken loose.  The sky opened up like she'd never seen before.  And now, almost five hours later, it showed no signs of letting up.  Some December weather they were having.  Instead of blissful flurries of snow, timed perfectly for Christmas as usual, it was behaving like spring.  The air was cool, but not cold, and the thunder in the distance made her think it was March not four days before Santa.

"How're you feeling?  Better?"  Rob's hand settled on her shoulder from behind as he kneeled down beside her on the floor.  With his other hand he lifted up a steaming cup of hot cocoa and she took it from him gratefully.

"No.  I think it's getting worse, actually.  Must be the flu."  Susan took a sip of her cocoa and settled back against Rob's chest.  He wrapped his arms around her.  "Where's Will?" 

"Playing a video game, I think.  They changed the status of his basketball game from 'delayed' to 'cancelled.'  Seems the school's roof is in pretty bad shape -- leaking so bad the gym is flooded.  They'll probably have to cancel the one next Friday night, too."

"Oh, no.  He's been looking forward to that game since the beginning of the season."

"That's what I thought, too.  But when I told him, he just shrugged, like he didn’t care."

"That's odd."  The word got caught in Susan's throat and she spasmed, coughing brutally.  Rob handed her the box of tissues.  With one hand she grabbed a handful and wracked up phlegm for nearly half a minute, leaving herself exhausted.  Rob's eyebrows scrunched up in a look of tender concern.

"Are you okay?"  Susan gave one final wheeze, and nodded slowly.  Rob helped her up off of the cold floor and settled them both on the sofa instead.  Rob's body heat made up for the loss of warmth from the fire, and then some.

"I'm okay."  She smiled up at him, and smoothed her hand over his wrinkled brow, down his face to rest on his chest, trying to reassure him.  His face softened, and his heart rate slowed.  "Did Will tell you anything about his dream, yet?"

"No, but I'm really getting worried.  Did he mention anything to you?"  Susan shook her head as she gently blew on her cocoa, sending little ripples through the velvet liquid.  She was more interested in using the mug to warm her hands than in drinking her favorite Winter-time beverage.  In fact, the chocolate aroma made her slightly nauseous.

"If he wouldn't talk to you, he definitely won't talk to me.  You two have something special."  She kept her eyes intentionally downward.

"He loves you.  You know that."

"Of course he does."  Her lips turned up in a smile, but it felt forced, even to her.  She knew William loved her, and she loved him more than anything.  He had been her dream come true ever since he arrived at their door nearly twelve years ago.  He was a wide-eyed, round faced baby, unusually content in her arms even though it had been less than one week since his birth mother had given him up for adoption after almost a year of caring for him. 

Susan loved her son, but they had never really connected.  Not like Rob and William, not the way she imagined a birth mother would connect to her own flesh and blood.  She felt awful about that.  Rob and she had tried for years to have their own child.  She always had that drive for motherhood, a drive that more and more women these days had suppressed.  She'd never had any ambition to earn a living outside the home, choosing instead a far more difficult and important life's work.  Being a wife and a mother was all she ever wanted to be.

Yet, somehow the day she learned they would never have their own biological child, a piece of that dream died, and so did a piece of herself.  The decision to adopt was an easy one, and she truly wanted to go through with it.  But from the moment they had learned about William, and the mysterious reasons surrounding his birth mother's decision to give him up, Susan had worried that her dreams would again be damaged.  On some subconscious level she never opened herself up to accept this boy, or at least to become close to him.  She felt guilty, but it didn't change how much she cared for her son.

"I love him, too," she said, trying to convince herself more than Rob.

"Come on, Sus.  I'll draw you a hot bath.  You're shivering."  Rob sat up and pulled on her arm until she followed.  They walked past the big bay window in the living room.  Outside the rain fell even harder.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Duluth, Minnesota

December 20, 2012

8:07 am

Mulder closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away as Scully quickly pushed the needle into his arm.  To look at him, one would think the needle was a Yellow Jacket dive-bombing him, stinger first, with its heart set on protecting the Queen.  Scully was convinced that a five year old would be easier to inject than Mulder.  The stress she still felt from her morning walk caused his reaction to irritate her more than usual.

"Jesus, Mulder.  You've gotten hundreds of shots in your life.  Why are you always such a baby?"  She’d spoken a little more harshly than she had intended.  Usually, she was conscious of Mulder’s past experience with needles and drills, but today her nerves were frazzled, and by the time she had realized what she had said, it was too late to take it back.

"I just don't like to *watch* the needle boring into my skin.  That's a fairly common phobia,” he said, shrugging.

She sighed, and softened her next words.  "There.  All done."  Scully set the syringe down on the table and pressed a piece of gauze over the entry mark centered between his left shoulder and elbow, dabbing the minute amount of blood before applying a Band Aid over it.  "You hardly felt it, did you?"

"That isn't the point," he said, trying to convince either himself or her that his fear was perfectly normal and rooted in common, everyday experience, though she wasn’t sure which.  Maybe both.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she removed her sweater, revealing only a thin, white tank top underneath.  "So, are you going to tell me about this dream of yours, or do I have to guess?”  Scully uncapped a brand new syringe and pushed it through the top of a small, liquid filled vial.  She pulled back the moveable part of the plastic syringe, sucking the light amber-tinted substance through the needle.  Mulder turned away as she brought the tip of the needle to her upper arm and applied pressure.  She was glad, because Mulder passing out on her was an event she would just as soon avoid. 

They'd conducted this same ritual almost every week for the past year, except for the past few weeks.  Though, without proper trials, it was difficult to know how often if was truly necessary to take the serum.  They'd run low on supplies, and Scully thought it would be prudent to save the remaining doses for emergency use only.  She suspected that Mulder could not have cared less, however.  He complained incessantly about the metallic taste the serum produced in his mouth.  Everything they ate had a hint of iron in it.

"Food was just starting to taste normal again," he said, changing the subject away from his dream.

"When was the last time you ate, Mulder?" 

Mulder lowered his head, suddenly looking like a scolded ten year-old.  "I don't know," he mumbled.  "I think I ate something yesterday.  We had tacos."

"That was two days ago.  Mulder, you have to eat.  We shouldn't be taking these injections if our blood sugar is low.  I haven't had time to study the effects that might have on our immune system’s response to the serum."  She wasn't trying to preach to him, just stating the facts.   After her injection, she began cleaning up, sorting the empty serum vials and the full ones into separate groups on the table, and stuffing everything else that was reusable back into her med kit.   "Besides, you're stalling.  Tell me what happened in the dream."

"You're not going to believe me," he said, avoiding eye contact with her.

"Obviously you saw him, again.  What did he tell you this time?  Where are we supposed to go?"  She tightened her jaw and pushed her chin slightly into the air hoping to block his words from entering her space.

"Wyoming."

"Wyoming."  She blew out a frustrated breath.  In the past five years, the figure in Mulder's dreams had lead them to about two dozen different places.  Sometimes, the boy, (who Mulder emphatically believed was their son, William), would specifically tell them an exact location; other times the location would be implied.   Before Mulder brought them to Duluth, they had made a stop in Hibbing, Minnesota.  Mulder dreamed that he and Will were playing basketball with former Boston Celtics star Kevin Mchale, who was from the little town on Minnesota's Iron Range.  Before that, they'd stayed in a small mining town outside of Pittsburgh, all because Mulder dreamed William was wearing a coal miner's hat with a "Steelers" sticker on the side.

"He's there, Scully.  I'm sure of it this time."

"What makes this time any different from the last time you were sure of it?"  Truthfully, she wasn't angry.  She was just tired of traipsing all over the country, and getting her hopes up.  She wasn't sure she could do it again, even if it was just one more time, and probably the last chance she'd ever have.  Her last dying wish wasn't to re-live giving William up for adoption, which is what it felt like every time they came up empty handed. 

"I'm sure."

"I can't do it, Mulder.  I can't."  She pushed her chair away from the kitchen table she had made into a temporary medical clinic.  She crossed the room to stand in front of the big window that overlooked Lake Superior, out onto the vast white blanket of snow, which covered hundreds of miles of ice, and finally ended at the Michigan shoreline, into infinity.  It was frozen tundra, void of anything, blending in seamlessly with the gray, winter storm sky.

"He's there Scully," he said, balling his fist and bouncing it silently on the table.

"Mulder, in two days, chances are all hell is going to break lose.  Most likely, we'll die.  I don't want to spend the last two days we have on earth in a car headed for nowhere Wyoming chasing another phantom, another dead end."

"Then why the hell did we just inject ourselves with this crap?"  His voice bellowed through the tiny house, cracking slightly on the last word.  He stood up, eyes blazing with confusion and frustration. 

Scully shared his confusion.  A few hours ago he had been ready to dig a hole and throw himself inside it.  Since he had awakened from his dream, Scully saw hints of a recently re-ignited flame blazing in his eyes.  It both frightened and excited her.  Unfortunately, it was too late.  Why after spending the last month slowly dying was he asking her to pick up the trail?

"You know why, Mulder!"  She was shouting at him too.  She was never one to back down in a fight, certainly not now.  "The serum might make the virus innocuous.  It’s the only chance we have."

"I know what the damn injection is for.  But why the hell don't you want to go to William and give it to him?  I know where he is.  What the hell have we been doing for the past ten years?"

"We've been chasing figments of your imagination!"  She shoved the remaining empty bottles of serum off the table and they crashed to the floor.  A moment later Mulder and Scully stood face to face silently staring holes through the other, until Mulder lowered his gaze and drew a breath.  He stood with his hands on his hips, and spoke softer, struggling to control his tone.

"I know this has been hard on you, Scully.  And I know that you have lost faith in me.  But if you could just let yourself remember a time when you believed in me, and come with me now, I promise you I'll bring you to him."  He held his hand out to her; his eyes pleading with her in the same silent language that long ago they’d used to communicate with almost more than with words.  "For old time's sake?”

She looked at him for a moment; her jaw tight, as she took in deep, even breaths. 

"I'll start packing.  We can leave in an hour."  The contempt she felt slipped through to her voice.  She walked past his outstretched hand without a glance.  She hadn't lost faith in him.  She would still follow him to Hell and back.

But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 20, 2012

3:31 pm

Rob Van de Kamp tossed three tablets of Advil into his mouth with one hand and lifted the glass of cold water to his lips with the other.  He guzzled the liquid until the glass was nearly empty, then he threw the remaining water at his own face.  He couldn't see, but he was sure that the water turned to steam the instant it touched his skin.  An hour after pulling Susan out of the tub and sending her to bed, he was feeling almost as bad as she looked.  He wasn't coughing as heavily, but he had a terrible case of the chills, which seemed paradoxical to his incessant sweating and fiery feverish forehead.

That was one fast, insidious bug they'd caught. 

All he wanted to do now was fall into bed and sleep it off.  In a few hours he was sure he'd wake up feeling good as new and ready to finish digging post-holes for the basketball hoop he was trying to get up in time for Christmas.  Not that it looked like he'd be able to do that any time today anyway.  He'd been caught in the rain after trying to sneak some work in during a lull in the storm.  One minute, the sky looked like it would clear up, poking blue through the clouds, then literally the next minute it was raining biblical-style, like the floodgates of heaven had opened up directly on his house.  Rob had barely made it back to the house before his tools succumbed to rust right there in his hands.  At least, that was how he planned to tell the story to William and Susan later on.

Speaking of William, Rob hadn't seen him practically all day.  The boy's melancholy seemed to grow exponentially with each downturn in the weather. 

Rob staggered up the stairs, stopping at William's bedroom door before he headed to his own, where his wife, suffering from a severely stuffed nose, was sure to be snoring at record decibel levels. 

William's door was closed, unusual by itself.  William’s behavior had changed lately, and Rob wondered if his son had officially entered the surly phase between adolescent and teenager.  Rob felt the need to commit a basic violation of privacy that he had once said he would never do with his own son.  He placed his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaned his ear towards the door itself, pressing it flush against the cool, painted white wood. 

  1.   He heard nothing.  Not a video game, not music, not the television. 



His internal alarm was going off mildly.  He wasn't sure why, but Rob felt uneasy.  He had been ever since William came into his bedroom the night before.  William’s attitude and his unusual behavior added to that paranoia.  Or maybe it was just this flu he'd caught. 

Rob laughed softly to himself and turned on his heels away from William's door.  Bed.  He needed bed and lots of it.  As he started down the hallway towards his own room, Rob heard a creak as William opened his door.

"Dad?"  William's voice sounded small and timid. 

"Yeah, buddy.  It's just me."  Rob smiled meekly.

"Is Mom okay?"

"Yeah, she's just resting.  She'll be fine once she's slept for a while.  What have you been doing all day?"

William shrugged and looked down towards his feet.

"Come on, son.  What's wrong?  It's not like you to be so unhappy."

William hesitated, but he looked like he might tell Rob what was bothering him finally.  Rob patiently waited for William to speak when he felt comfortable.  He didn’t want to scare him off.

"I had another dream.  I-I took a nap and had another dream."

"Same as last night?"  Rob asked.  William shook his head violently.

"I dreamed that you and mom got really sick.  You were dying," he said.

"Oh, Will.  No, mom and I just have the flu.  By this time tomorrow, we'll be good as new."  William looked unconvinced.  Rob took a step toward him and held his arms out, beckoning Will to come closer and into his embrace.  William stepped forward but he didn't return the hug.  Rob pulled back to look at his son, hoping to console him with his own confidence.  Perhaps that dad face Rob usually used for similar occasions was on the blink, because William didn't seem to feel any better.

"Dad, I think something bad is happening."

"What's happening?"  Rob soothed his son.  William looked directly into his father's eyes, and when he spoke, a chill went through Rob that was not caused by any virus.

"They're coming."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER THREE

State of Coahuila, Mexico

December 20th, 2012

2:14 pm

Monica Reyes balanced a brown paper bag stuffed to the brim with groceries on her hip as she fumbled for her keys.  She'd crammed them in the pocket of her jeans, and they were in there good and tight, wedged in the folds of the thick fabric.  The day was hot, and even though dark clouds moved across the sky, she suspected the heat wasn't planning to let up any time soon. 

The struggle to find her keys, combined with the strain her balancing act put on the muscles in her arm, caused her to break out in a slight sweat, mildly irritating her.  It wasn't long ago she could run ten miles in the dry Mexican heat, and now she digging in her pocket exhausted her.  My, what fifteen years could do to a person.

Finally, she struck metal and looped her index finger through the ring on the key chain.  She pulled the keys out of her pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open, practically falling into the tiny kitchen.  Quickly, she stumbled to the little folding table near the center of the room and dropped the bag on top of it.

"Ugh.  I have to start working out again," she said, huffing out a breath.  Monica pilfered an apple from the top of the sack and rubbed it absently on her sleeve before taking a bite of the crisp, tart fruit.  She ate as she walked through the doorway into the living room.  With her mouth full, she called out, hoping to surprise Joy with the cache of lemon drops she'd bought on impulse. 

"Joy?  I have a surprise for you," Monica said between swallows of apple.

Monica had liberated Joy, with the help of the girl’s mother, Patti, from a secret government installation nearly two months earlier.  The twelve-year old had been the subject of science experiments along with several other children.  Monica had desperately hoped to save the others, but had only been able to smuggle Joy out of the compound.  Monica planned to go back as soon as she thought it was safe. 

Ever since bringing Joy and her mother to live with her at the small house Monica had purchased years earlier in Mexico, Joy had become progressively more sullen and withdrawn.  Monica hoped to cheer the little girl up and she wasn’t above bribery

The house was atypically silent, aside from Monica's crunching.  She swallowed the piece of apple she was chomping and finally looked up, scanning the tiny living room. 

"Oh, my god," she said. 

The living room was in a state of complete disarray.  Two lamps were shattered, their pieces scattered on the floor.  The heavy sofa was on its side, throw pillows slashed apart.  A piece of glass that normally belonged in the center of the coffee table was smashed into shards.  Even artwork that had been hanging on the walls was either slashed or lay on the floor.  Picture frames were askew on wall hooks.  Panic spread through Monica’s body and she launched into a near sprint towards the stairway.

"Joy!  Patti!  Are you okay?"  Monica reached the top of the landing and called out again.  She heard a faint whimper coming from Joy's bedroom, which she shared with her mother, Patti.  “Joy?  Where are you?"  Monica called.

Monica pushed open the door to the bedroom, which was half off of its hinges, quickly stepping inside.  Twelve-year old Joy was huddled in a corner of the room, her head on her knees, crying inconsolably.  Her mother, a woman Monica had gotten to know very well over the past year during the planning stages of Joy’s liberation, lay dead a few feet away from her daughter. 

And next to her was a man that Monica had never seen before.  

He had blood on his hand but was also dead.  The man’s skin had turned a dark gray in patches on his arms and face.  If Monica channeled back to her days with the Bureau she would assess that the man had killed Patti, but there was no obvious cause of the man's death.  Right now that didn't matter.  Ignoring her investigator's instinct to protect a crime scene she rushed over to the frightened girl and wrapped her arms around her.  She looped her arms underneath the girl's back and legs and lifted her up off of the floor.  Joy didn't protest. 

As they passed the dead man, his body spasmed, momentarily startling Monica.  When they reached the bedroom doorway he stilled.  Satisfied he was still dead, Monica continued out of the room and down the stairs.  Joy buried her head into Monica's shoulder, slightly muffling the sound of her sobs. 

Outside, a crack of thunder signaled the impending rainstorm, and a few seconds later a flash of lightening flickered over the horrific scene.  It was only a matter of time before the heavens would open up and weep in unison with them both.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Interstate 94,

Near the Minnesota/North Dakota border

December 20th, 2012

1:45 pm

The snow continued to fall in wet, heavy clumps, blanketing the road and slowing down their progress.  Mulder drove at a steady pace of about fifty miles per hour, a good twenty or thirty slower than he had hoped to drive.  Luckily, the state of Minnesota was used to large snowfalls and the enormous plow trucks were out in unbelievable numbers, slicing through the snow, pushing it to the side of the road, while simultaneously spraying a mixture of chemicals and sand over the newly exposed asphalt.  But it was still too slow for Mulder's liking.  Time was something they and the world didn't have. 

It was somewhat surreal that the Department of Transportation crew continued to clear the highways, to do their duty, oblivious to what was happening around them.  Mulder wondered when they would finally learn the truth.  How long would it take them to realize that the very snow their plows pushed aside contained the vehicle of their demise.  Would they ever know?  Mulder didn’t think so.

As they drove, Mulder and Scully passed several trucks and cars on the highway.  Several vehicles were loaded with top mounted ski racks, transporting families likely headed east to the large hills substituting for mountains along Minnesota’s North Shore.  Some cars pulled trailers with snowmobiles and All-Terrain Vehicles, a favorite pastime in the dragging months of winter.  Mulder almost wished he were one of those ignorant vacationers.  How much easier would it be to just go to sleep one night and not wake up in the morning?  Death was something he had resigned himself to the past month or so.  He'd almost begun looking forward to the day when there was nothing but nothingness.  He now realized that wasn't what he had wanted at all. 

He was just very tired.

Scully sat in the passenger seat of their big SUV beside him.  She gazed absently out the window with her elbow resting on the window ledge and her hand pillowing her head.  Since packing up their meager belongings and leaving Duluth, they'd spoken approximately five words to each other.  Soon they'd cross the spot where the western border of Minnesota, lined by the Red River, became North Dakota. 

They'd taken the northern and slightly longer route, hoping to prolong the time they would have to drive through the Mesabi Iron Range, preserving what they believed was some measure of protection within the boundaries of the largest iron deposits in North America.  The aliens feared iron of this density, which was why Mulder believed William had directed them there in the first place.  At least, that's what he rationalized after they had arrived in Minnesota nearly two years ago hoping that this would finally be the time they found their son. 

And after he had failed to find him.

Mulder had believed William would be there.  Maybe he was on a basketball team in Chisolm, or enjoyed fishing in the thousand foot deep iron ore pit mines that had filled with water since their abandonment in Gilbert.  He wanted to believe his son was guiding him but that he just hadn’t understood the message. 

Luckily Scully had found something.  That part of Minnesota, known as "The Range," was an easy source of low grade iron ore which Scully used to enhance the substance they'd been injecting themselves with in the hopes of building up their iron levels.  Duluth was technically not in the range, but it was a major trade hub of taconite pellets, which were loaded on ships in Lake Superior and transported through the Great Lakes to Pittsburgh and other steel producing areas. 

It was only a theory, but Scully believed that the serum she created, which she’d named Mesabi Ferrum, but Mulder referred to as “the stuff”, might make humans resistant to an alien virus.  Mesabi Ferrum was based on a similar compound to the one Jeffrey Spender had injected into their son almost twelve years ago.  It had had little effect on William.  But after she had witnessed iron’s effects on a Super Soldier, she later told Mulder that Jeffrey’s actions had made her wonder what the connection between the two events had been.

When Mulder had broken into Mount Weather, he had not only learned the date of Colonization, but also the method the aliens would use to bring the Plague as well as some of the biological characteristics of the disease itself, which was largely derived from the physiology of the aliens.  Since humans and the aliens were biologically similar to each other, Scully hoped that the one thing that seemed to be different, the magnetite intolerance, would be the key to creating a vaccine.  Humans needed iron to live, but it seemed that the opposite was true for the aliens, or at least some of them. 

It was a long shot, she claimed.  Mulder thought she was selling herself short.  It was their last best chance at defeating the aliens and preventing Colonization.  If anyone could save mankind, it was Scully.  Unfortunately, the serum did little good so long as they were the only humans who had access to it.  It was hard to distribute the stuff to the rest of the world when they had effectively dropped off the planet.  Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had been fugitives from the federal government since 2002, and many, including members of Scully's family, believed they were dead. 

"Snow's getting heavier," Mulder said finally.  He spoke softly, but in the dead silence of the truck his voice boomed, causing Scully to jump slightly.  "Sorry."

She turned to look at him and faked a smile, failing miserably.  "It's beautiful, isn't it?"  She said, wistfully.

"Maybe if it wasn't bringing a Plague to end all Plagues."

"Yeah, there is that."

"I've noticed more cars in the ditch."

"Storm's getting worse.  Makes driving harder."

"I suppose, but it's not exactly blizzard condition yet.  This is Minnesota.  They're used to heavy snowfall up here," Mulder said.  He lifted a sunflower seed to his lips, cracked it between his teeth and tossed the spent shell into the ashtray.  Mulder thought he noticed a smile form in the corner of Scully’s mouth.  Usually she barely tolerated his seed cracking habit.  Maybe his annoying habit reminded her of the past.  He’d felt the past prickling him all day, and it comforted him.

"I'm not sure I get your point," Scully said, bringing him back to the present.

"It just seems more people than usual are having car trouble.  The further away we get from the Iron Range, the more breakdowns I've seen.  And I swear that in several of the cars, people were slumped over the wheel."

"If they spun off the road, they likely could have been injured.  Maybe we should call for help,” Scully said.  They hadn’t carried cell phones in years, but more than likely any driver in any car would have one.

"They didn't look like the type of accidents that would cause injuries to me.  I don't think stopping for help would be a good idea."  Mulder glanced down at his gas gauge.  The tank was getting low and soon they’d be in the Dakotas.  Long distances of nothing in a snowstorm told him he better stop soon at least to refuel.  "Are you hungry?  We have to stop for gas anyway."

"Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that the Plague is already causing illness?  That would be one of the fastest pathologies I've ever seen."

"That surprises you?  The weird thing is that I didn't see one accident until we passed Bemidji," Mulder said. 

Bemidji was a small town on the western border of the Iron Range.  Not exactly the end of it, but close.  After that, the rich deposits of iron began to peter out significantly. 

"I guess that would make sense.  If iron in large concentrations can kill the aliens, then maybe it can also slow down the bug they're using.  If it's based in alien physiology, it seems logical.  Maybe we should head back."

"No, if this bug is as fast as it looks, William won't have time.  We may already be too late."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 20, 2012

3:36 pm

It was only about 3:30 in the afternoon, but outside the sky was dark as night.  The rain pummeled the tiny trailer, echoing off the metal, creating a tinny sound that was almost hypnotizing to the occupants inside.  They sat on the sofa, both silently watching television.  Anyway, one of them was watching a television program, the other was looking at the show on the tube but listening to the one playing inside John's head.  Not that there was much of interest going on there, aside from building frustration and boredom.

"All right, that's it.  I can't just sit around anymore," John said.  He jumped up off the sofa, throwing his hands on his hips, looking for any way to release some of his nervous energy. 

"What do you want to do?"  Gibson calmly looked up at John. 

"I don't know.  If what you say is true, which I'm not saying it is, then I can't just sit around and wait for the world to end." 

Gibson smiled at his friend.  He knew that despite his words, John was afraid.  He was aware more than almost anyone of what was going on, and his denial was only a form of deflection.  Even now as it was happening, it was too mind boggling to put into words. 

"What are you smiling at?" John asked.

"We've done everything we can.  All we can do now is wait."

"That can't be all.  This can't be everything.  We should go out and do something,” John said, still pacing.

"If we leave here, we won't have the protection from the rocks."  Gibson opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could get the words out, he turned his head abruptly toward the window. 

"What is it?"  John moved toward the window to peer out into the rain.  Visibility was reduced substantially with the storm, but despite that Gibson could make out headlights coming toward the trailer, speeding toward them at a good clip.  "Who is it, Gibson?  Can you hear them?"

Gibson understood John’s meaning and moved to stand beside him, focusing his thoughts on the occupant of the car.  The car slowed and came to a stop.  The door opened and just before the driver stepped out, Gibson knew who it was.  "It's a friend."

"Well, who is it?"  John looked up and Gibson felt John’s anxiety leave his body when he was finally able to make out the visitor’s face. 

"Monica?"  John said.  He moved away from the window with sudden quickness, and threw open the door to the trailer.  The wind blew in, blowing a newspaper off the kitchen table.  John stepped out into the rain.  He jogged towards her, oblivious to the fact that he was getting drenched.  Upon reaching her, he lifted Monica up in a bear-like embrace.  She'd barely had time to see who was accosting her before he squeezed her the way a child may accidentally squish a small animal that it wants to protect. 

Through a breathless gasp and turned up lips Monica said, "Hi, John.  Good to see you, too."  He set her down, and clasped his hands over her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. 

"What are you doing here?  I didn't think I'd see you again," John said.  Though Gibson stayed inside the trailer, he heard their conversation perfectly.  His mind amplified their words and thoughts, though he wasn’t always sure which were which.

"I know.  I'm sorry."  Monica looked down at her feet, the mirth in her eyes left her suddenly as she remembered their parting, as well as the reason for her arrival.  "I need your help."

"Well, come on.  Let's get out of this rain," John said, putting his hand on her back, pushing Monica towards the trailer door.

"Wait.  I have someone else with me," Monica said, turning back to the car.

"Oh."  The look on John’s face was comical.  He thought the 'someone else' was a man, likely a boyfriend, perhaps even a husband.  Not that it should really matter to him.  John had made it clear to her the last time they saw each other that he could never see the two of them as anything more than partners and friends.  Monica turned back, and Gibson's mind heard Monica pick up on John’s expression.  She considered letting John sweat it out for a moment, maybe for some friendly sadistic fun, then her thoughts returned to the passenger who still sat in the car.

Monica walked over to the passenger side of the door, opened it and helped a little girl out of the car.  She shepherded her toward the wide-open door to the trailer and walked up the steps and inside.  When all were safely in the dry trailer, door closed to the elements, Monica introduced them.

"John, Gibson... I would like you to meet Joy."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FOUR

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 20, 2012

3:43 pm

"Hello, Joy.  I'm John."  Doggett bent over placing his hands on his knees, bringing his eyes to her level.  She looked to be nine or ten years old, but it was becoming harder and harder for Doggett to judge these things the older he got.  If he had to guess by looking at Gibson, he would say the kid was nearing forty rather than twenty-five.  That may have had more to do with Gibson's wisdom beyond his years rather than his looks, or his uncanny creepiness, which Doggett meant in a good way.  "I'm pleased to meet you."

Joy took a slight step backward and leaned into Monica, hiding herself from him.  She blinked at him, clearly frightened, but she didn't completely cower and her eyes were dry.  Doggett looked up at Monica, and scrunched his forehead.

"She hasn't said a word since Mexico.  I think it's some sort of shock," Monica said.

"What happened, Monica?" 

"I'm not sure.  I didn't actually watch it happen, but Joy did.  I got there... after.  Too late."  Monica looked down at Joy frowning in apparent worry, looking uncertain whether or not she wanted to talk about what had happened in front of the girl.  "Joy, honey?  Why don't you come over here and watch TV."  Monica moved toward the sofa, and Joy followed without question.  She sat down in front of the flickering tube, her sneakered feet dangled over the sofa cushions, and Gibson handed her the remote control.  It wasn't until Monica tried to move away that Joy showed any reaction.  She reached over and latched onto Monica’s arm.  "It's okay.  I'll just be right over there.  Stay here, okay?"  Monica smoothed her hand over Joy’s hair and gently smiled.

A moment later, the three adults gathered in the kitchen area of the trailer.  It wasn't exactly another room, but it was better than talking in the living room within easy earshot of Joy.  The men listened as Monica told them how she had found Joy's mother Patti dead at the hands of what she believed was a Super Soldier. 

"What did it want?"  Doggett asked, gritting his teeth.  The mere mention of Super Soldiers made all the fillings in his mouth ring.   The creatures – they weren’t men – had lost interest in him since he had left the Bureau a few years earlier.  He wasn't Fox Mulder.  He didn't have the energy to chase conspiracy theories until his dying day.  Even if he happened to know this one was real.  His paying job now was as a private investigator.  With his credentials he’d managed to carve out a decent living for himself. He’d retained a few professional contacts, but for all practical purposes his Bureau access was gone.  Even though he’d maintained a relationship with Gibson during the past ten years, his lack of any true power had taken him off the alien threat list. 

He wasn’t sure anyone could truly be considered a threat anymore.  When your enemies hold all of the cards, it doesn't matter what you bet.

"It wanted Joy."  Monica crossed her arms, and glanced around Doggett making sure the little girl was still preoccupied by her program -- or programs.  Following Monica’s gaze, Doggett watched as Joy flicked through channel after channel in an almost hypnotically even pace.

"Why did it want Joy?"  He felt as if he were interrogating an unwilling suspect, coaxing minute bits of information out of her.  "Come on, Monica."  His tone stiffened a bit, and Monica snapped her head back toward him, shaken out of her preoccupation with the girl.

"Because Joy is one of the Twelve.  I helped her mother rescue her from a government lab almost two months ago.  If you can call it that.  Whatever government we once had hasn’t existed in a long time."

“Rescue?”  Doggett asked.

“Yes, rescue.  She wasn’t there by choice,” Monica said.

"Who are the Twelve?"  Doggett asked.

"Children being used by the aliens for a project having to do with colonization.  I don't know exactly what the project is except that it has to do with their special abilities," Monica said.

"Special abilities?  Come on, Monica.  What could a bunch of kids have to do with all that?"

"Everything, John.  You've met Joy's mother before.  Her name was Patti.  She was the wife of the NSA employee we caught breaking into Dana's apartment.  It was her husband that was killed by the Super Soldier that wanted to kill Mulder.  Is this ringing a bell or should I keep going?"

"So, Joy is the daughter that she claimed was like Scully's son, William?" Doggett said.

"Yes," Monica said it as if it was a final statement; like all the pieces were now in front of him and everything should be obvious.  To him it felt like she had handed him ten pieces out of a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle and then was confused by why he was having trouble finishing it.

"So?"

"Damn it, John!  You're acting like this is brand new information!"  She let out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.  "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  I'm trying to understand.  I'm just not as good as you are at connecting all the paranormal dots."  He smiled a half smile from the corner of his mouth.  "Let's just start at the beginning.  How did you get reacquainted with Joy's mother?" 

Monica returned his smile, pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, sat down, and began to tell them the story of her life for the past year.  If she had been anyone other than Monica Reyes, Doggett would have thought she was nuts.  Truthfully, he still thought she was nuts, but he also believed every word she said.  Almost.  He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that to her yet.

Doggett looked across the table. 

Gibson just smiled.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sioux Falls, South Dakota

December 20, 2012

8:08 p.m.

Mulder's head lolled to the side, jerked up quickly, then began a slow decent back down again.  Scully had been driving almost an hour, and Mulder had been fighting off sleep the whole time.   Scully hoped he would be able to rest.  They planned on driving non-stop to Wyoming, and with the weather what it was, it would probably be into tomorrow afternoon before they got close to William.  Mulder said he wasn't exactly sure he knew the name of the town they were headed to, but was fairly sure it was in the northeastern corner of the state.  He'd know it when he saw it, he kept telling her. 

"Mulder, it's okay.  You can sleep."  He popped his eyes open, cleared his sleepy confusion, and scrunched up his nose in an irritated snarl.

"I thought that's what I was doing."  Tired of arguing with him, and even more tired of being his mother, she simply nodded.

One mile marker, then another and another passed before either of them made another sound.  In those three miles, they saw about twenty-five cars stopped alongside Interstate 29, which soon would take them to the northern limits of Sioux Falls, South Dakota where they would then turn onto Interstate 90 and head straight through the Badlands into Wyoming. 

No problem. 

Except that along with the early winter sunset, a blustery wind had arrived, blowing snow across the flat, eastern Dakota landscape.  Some spots bordered on impassable even with their giant, four-wheel drive Tahoe. 

As they approached Sioux Falls, and the junction with I-90, Scully could make out the strobing lights of several emergency vehicles blocking the road near the exit on the northern edge of town.  She slowed the truck, and looked briefly at Mulder.

"What's this?"  She asked.

"Don't stop," Mulder said, sitting up straighter and fully awake.

"Mulder, I have to.  They're completely blocking the road, and there's a concrete median."  A uniformed state trooper signaled for her to stop, and Scully obeyed.  He came over to the driver's side door and motioned for her to roll down the window.  Scully pressed the button, and the glass slid easily into the door, letting in a rush of chilly air.  The trooper bent over, placed one hand on the window frame, and his other back toward his holstered weapon.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but we're closing the road.  The storm's blowing snow across the highway."

"Sir, it's important that we continue."

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to find another way.  Though I'd highly recommend you take the exit and go to the first hotel you see," he said, pointing toward the off-ramp, which led into the small city of Sioux Falls.

"Can you tell me of another route?  We're heading west and had hoped to take I-90."

"Both interstates from here on westward and southward are closed by order of the Governor.  If you need to go west, you'll have to head east back across the border and then make your way to Nebraska."

"Is there a highway other than the interstate that isn't closed?"

"Yes ma'am, but I wouldn't chance it,” the trooper said, shifting his weight to the other foot.  “If we can't keep the interstate open, the smaller highways would be even more dangerous.  If you got stuck on one of those, you could get stranded."

Scully shook her head in disbelief.  She shouldn't be surprised, but in spite of all she knew and had seen, she was.  It just kept getting worse.  Mexico sounded exquisite at the moment.  She considered questioning the trooper further, but as she lifted her head to speak, Scully spotted something, and changed her mind.  "Thank you, sir."

"Be safe, ma'am,” he said, then ducked his head and looked at Mulder.  “Sir."  Then completing the movie cliché, the trooper tipped his hat and stepped back from the truck.

Scully rolled up the window, and gently pressed down the gas pedal.  She directed the car to one of the two only available outlets.  The exit into town was out of the question, so instead she took the cloverleaf exit that led to Interstate 90 east back into Minnesota. 

"What is it?"  Mulder asked.  Scully checked her mirrors, making sure they were safely headed east and out of view of the blockade.  She couldn’t detect headlights or any sign that they were being followed.

"Did you see those trucks back there?" she asked finally.

Mulder shook his head.  "All I saw were the trooper's cars, an ambulance and a couple of SUV's which I assumed were part of the state police."

"Yeah, and behind those, I saw a truck with FEMA written on it, and behind that were two HAZMAT teams, fully decked in level four suits.  One of them was working on the passenger of a car in the ditch," she said, still nervously glancing into her review mirror.

"Oh, shit.  Looks like they've essentially shut down the state of South Dakota.  Soon they'll declare martial law," Mulder said with more alarm in his voice than Scully had heard in a long time.

"We have no choice but to go through Nebraska.  As soon as we hit the Minnesota border, we'll head south."

"For all we know, that's closed, too," Mulder said.

"We’re out of other options,” she said, shaking her head.  “Maybe further south it will only be raining, not snowing. It's fairly warm here; snow's wet, barely fluffy enough for the wind to blow it around."

"So you think maybe they won't have snow as an excuse to close the roads?"

"It's a long shot, but maybe.  We'll make it, Mulder."  She felt his gaze on her, and turned to look at him.  His eyes sparkled, and he tried to hide a smile, but failed.

"What?"

"Nothing."  He turned back to look through the windshield.

“Mulder, what is it?” He didn’t answer right away.  “Mulder?”

“Felt like old times again,” he said, still looking out the window.

Finally, for a moment, she felt it, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 20, 2012

10:21 p.m.

Monica, John and Gibson sat around the kitchen table.  Each held a cup of coffee, but none of them had taken more than a sip.  They stared silently into the spaces in front of them, except for Gibson whose gaze fell upon Joy.  She was still in the living room watching every channel on television. 

They'd only caught glimpses of the news, but it seemed that a strange illness was sweeping through Arizona.  The hospitals were being inundated with people suffering with flu-like symptoms.  A few of the national television networks reported similar phenomena across the country.  The Center for Disease Control requested that only the elderly or children be brought to hospitals due to limitations on medical staff and space.

Monica had just finished her story of how she had broken into the facility where Joy lived.  She told them how she had wanted to take the other eleven children, too, but had run out of time.  She told them of how Patti had begged Monica for help after Joy had been taken away from her upon reaching her tenth birthday, two years ago.  Without warning, men, who Patti assumed were from the government, had come into their home and taken the little girl without a word.

She knew that John was wrestling with the facts in his mind, sorting out the perception from the reality.  John Doggett was a black and white kind of guy.  Things either made sense, or they didn't.  Things that didn't make sense were classified as mumbo jumbo.  This had always frustrated Monica.  She thought of it as sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting "la la la la la!"  But she realized later that it wasn't so much that he didn't want to understand, he just couldn't understand.  He wasn't stupid; he just looked through the world using a different kind of prism.  Actually, using no prism, just glass.

If Monica saw a rainbow, she'd wonder what it felt like to walk through it.  Show John Doggett a rainbow and he'd list each individual color he could see.  Show Dana Scully a rainbow and she'd describe the qualities of bent and transformed light, how the water disperses it into a beautiful spectrum of color.  Show Fox Mulder a rainbow, he'd ask to speak with the Leprechaun.

Different people saw things in different ways, and there was usually little anyone could do to change that.  Ironically, it was just when Monica had figured this out, that she and John had parted ways.  Though, it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d known sooner.

"You haven't told us yet, Monica.  Who killed the Super Soldier?"

"I have no idea," Monica said, raising her eyebrows.

"You have no idea?"

Monica shook her head. 

"You’re sure no one else was there?  I doubt the thing had a heart attack and just keeled over on its own."

Monica shrugged.  "What can I tell you, John?  I don't have a clue.  I didn't spend any time trying to find out either.  All I could think about was getting Joy out of there before more came looking for her."

"How do you know it's even dead?  We've seen them come back from some pretty amazing things before."

"I guess I don't.  He looked very dead, and I have no idea who or what killed him."

"Joy did," said Gibson.  He’d been quiet the whole time while Monica told her story.  His eyes had seemed vacant as he stared in Joy’s direction. 

"Joy?  I don't think so," John said.  Monica saw the gears turn in John’s mind.  He was probably thinking of Knowle Rohrer, a man he’d seen killed several times, but who always came back.  Monica herself had been with John when the last death finally took.  Super Soldiers were nearly indestructible.  She had seen them shot, decapitated and even turned into mulch.  No twelve-year old girl could stop them.  Even Monica had trouble believing that one.

Gibson remained seated, but he looked at John with certain eyes.  "Yes, she did.  She just told me.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

Friday, December 21, 2012

5:58 am

The temperature outside the Van de Kamp house had dropped about ten degrees during the night.  A thin layer of heavy wet snow covered the yard like a tarp.  There was little wind and aside from an occasional cough, inside the house all was silent. 

Rob had been awake on and off all night.  Now he lay in his bed exhausted from intense shivering.  About ten minutes ago he’d made a decision.  He was taking Susan to the hospital.  He couldn't recall feeling as badly in all his life, but Susan hadn't been conscious since dinner the previous night.  She’d been awake for a short period of time at that, allowing Rob to help her drink some broth. 

If only he could get out of bed to get to a phone.  Rob wasn't sure he had the energy to do it, and panic was crawling throughout his body.  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to muster the strength to call for William.  He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes intending to shout for his son, William stood beside the bed, looking down at him with a somber face.  Startled by William's presence, Rob blew out the breath.

"Will, where did you come from?" Rob said, trying to smile.

"You wanted to talk to me," William said, sounding strange.  He was calm; all traces of his fear were gone, or maybe just hidden beneath an eerie quiet exterior mask. 

"Did I call for you?  I don't remember," Rob asked bringing a hand to his sweating forehead.  William shook his head.  He lifted his hand, and held out the cordless phone from the kitchen.

"I called the hospital like you wanted.  Nobody answered," William’s voice shook slightly.

"How did you know I wanted to call the hospital?" 

"You said so.  I heard you inside my head."

"Inside your head?"  In spite of his weakness, Rob pushed himself up into a sitting position.  Either he was delirious with fever, or William had just told him he was hearing voices in his head.  Whichever it was, it wasn't good.  "Will, what are you talking about?"

"I know you don't believe me, dad.  I can hear your thoughts inside my head."  William turned away from his dad.  His somber façade melted away, and he sounded like a teenager worried about starting a new year of school.  This ability didn't seem to surprise, or frighten William, it just was.  To Rob, it seemed that William thought reading people’s minds was as ordinary as brushing his teeth.   

William walked over to the wingback chair near the chest of drawers a few feet from his parent's bed.  He slumped down into it.  His eyes looked downward and he swung one foot back and forth, sliding it on the hardwood floor.  "I've been able to do it for a long time.  I didn’t want to tell you or mom.  I was afraid you’d think I was crazy."

"Will, I'm not sure what you want, but it's not nice of you to trick me when I'm this sick."  Rob wondered if there had suddenly been a switch flicked inside his son that had turned him into someone else’s child.  Rob had never heard of boys playing the telepathy card to gain something he wanted, but Rob supposed there was always a first time.  William always had been a creative child.

"I knew you'd say that," William said.  He tapped his foot lightly on the floor like he was squashing a spider. 

"Will, I can't have this conversation right now."  Rob slid back down on the bed, too tired to hold himself up any longer.  Next to him, Susan inhaled deeply and let out a breath in a raspy gush of wind.  Rob turned over, and lifted his hand to his wife's forehead.  He pulled his hand back, wincing.  She was on fire.  He didn't think it was possible for a person to be that hot.  He noticed for the first time that she had developed several pink lesions on her face, resembling burn-marks.  He touched his own face, and could feel splotches of rough, sensitive skin all over. 

"Wait a minute.  Will, did you say that the hospital didn't answer when you called?"  There was one small hospital in town.  Locals were more likely to call their local doctor than 9-1-1.  Will had probably hit the speed dial.

"Yes.  I tried a couple of times."

"Did you call 9-1-1?"  William shook his head.  As Rob opened his mouth to speak, William jumped up and handed Rob the phone, answering his father's non-verbalized request to give it to him.  Rob took the handset from him, unsure what to say.  He could admit it was uncanny, but he wasn't ready to believe that William could read his mind.  Besides, right now he needed to get himself and his wife to an emergency room.  Mind-reading parlor tricks would have to wait.

Rob pressed the numbers on the telephone and moved the receiver to his ear.  Instead of ringing he heard the three toned beeps of a disconnected number followed by a recorded voice telling him to please check the number and dial again.  He turned the phone off and tried a second time.  Same response.

"9-1-1 is disconnected?"  He shouted, his voice cracking in exasperation.  He threw the phone at a pile of laundry in the corner of the room.  "What the hell is going on?"

Rob threw the covers off his body, and pushed himself up off of the bed.  Once on his feet, he wobbled momentarily and put his hand on William's shoulder to steady himself.  William responded by wrapping his arms around his father, ignoring his small size in an effort to keep him upright. 

"Dad?" William asked, frightened.

"Will, I need you to help me find my car keys.  We need to take your mother to the hospital.  Can you do that for me, son?"  William emphatically nodded that he could, and broke away from his father, headed toward the door.  Rob heard a thump, and wondered if William had tripped on his way out of the bedroom.  From somewhere deep inside a dark tunnel, Rob heard his son pleading for him to get up, and he realized it was he who had fallen.  He wanted to take away William’s distress, but he was powerless to oblige.  Everything was becoming so peaceful to him.

William's wails became more distant until finally there was only blackness.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FIVE

Mulder sat at the edge of the dock.  His feet dangled over the side, reflecting in the rippled water below.  The sky above was brilliant blue, and occasionally a white puff of cottony cloud would blow over him, taking a leisurely tour of the upper hemisphere.  A slight wind blew around him, holding the already hot summer temperature at bay.  Two bobbers floated several feet in front of him in the water, lolling with the tide, as seagulls squawked overhead waiting for the humans to supply them with dinner, making their work a little easier.  The salt air filled Mulder's nostrils and he closed his eyes savoring the sensation of absolute peace.

Suddenly, one bobber plunged deeply into the water, making a soft ‘ker-plunk’ sound. 

"Dad!  Dad!  I got something!"  A boy leapt up from his seat beside Mulder, fishing pole in hand.  "Do you think it's a shark?"  He asked eagerly.  The boy tugged on the rod, and cranked the reel with blinding speed.

"Easy Will.  Don't pull too hard.  You don't want the line to break."  Mulder stood up, wanting to help his son, but also wanting to let him handle things on his own.  He looked back toward the shore, smiling from ear to ear at Scully who was lounging in a reclining beach chair, sunglasses on, wide brimmed hat covering her head.  She held a book in her hand and watched her boys with amused approval, trying to hide her own ridiculous smile. 

"It won't.  I got it."  William began reeling the fish in, even as it fought for its life.  Mulder cheered his son on in delight, laughing.  Finally, the fish emerged from the water.  It was relatively small, probably about three pounds, in spite of the fight it had put up suggesting otherwise.  After it was a foot above the water's surface, Mulder grabbed the net and leaned over to capture the fish before it broke the line. 

Before Mulder could get it properly positioned, a shark leapt from beneath the surface and chomped down on William's catch, pulling the little fish inside its huge jaws and breaking the boy's line before returning to the safety of the water below. 

"Whoa!"  Mulder sat back on his haunches, amazed. 

"Oh man."  The disappointment in William's voice made Mulder forget the thrill of what he had just witnessed, and he turned to console his son.

"It's okay, Will.  There'll be another one," Mulder said, putting his hand on William’s shoulders.

But Will shook his head and sat back down on the dock.  He looked at his father, his face somber, but not tearful.  "That was my last chance."

"No it wasn't.  We'll just get you another hook and you'll be all set."  Mulder ruffled the boy's hair.

"No.  They're coming for me," William said.  He turned to look at Mulder, and Mulder felt a chill go through his spine.  "Dad, you have to hurry."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 21, 2012

3:24 am

Monica sat at the table, sipping her tepid cup of coffee, while staring absently out into the dark expanse of moon-starved desert.  It was still raining, though not as heavily as it had been when she arrived less than twelve hours earlier.  There was an eerie sense of calm surrounding her as she sat listening to the sounds of her companions sleeping in the trailer nearby. 

Perhaps it was just numbness.

She'd awakened after two hours of fitful sleep and decided to give up the ghost.  If she only had a day or so left before it all ended, why should she waste her time sleeping?  Not that she could sleep anyway.  Last night's revelation was prickling her mind and she knew that it meant something greater than what she comprehended, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

Joy had killed the Super Soldier.  The little girl still had not spoken out loud, even after an hour of coaxing.  Gibson was absolutely sure.  He hadn’t guessed either and he hadn't simply read her mind to obtain the information.  Joy had telepathically told him, and she knew he had heard her.

"Wild, isn't it?"  Gibson's soft tenor was dampened by the white noise of the rain outside, but Monica flinched nevertheless.  "Sorry.  I do that to people a lot." 

Gibson stood in what could be called the doorway to the kitchen from the living room, if there had been a door. It was really just the spot where the linoleum met the carpeting.  He wore a flannel bathrobe that made him look boyish, especially standing hunched slightly with his hands tucked inside the robe's deep pockets. 

"It's okay.  I was zoning out.  I didn't think anyone was awake."

"It's hard to sleep when the world is ending, don't you think?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"No, you thought it, but I wouldn't know about that."   He smirked playfully and walked over toward the table, then pulled out a chair and sat beside Monica.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.  Though it was probably only truly silent for Monica.  All the flotsam floating in her mind was likely background radio noise for Gibson. 

She wondered what it was like for him.  They'd spent a little time together a long time ago.  It was after Mulder's resurgence from hiding and during a time Monica had come to think of as "the beginning of the end," as fatalistic as that sounded.  But she really never had a chance to get to know him.  She suspected that was somewhat intentional on his part.  When you know the innermost thoughts of every person around you, the only way to hold on to some semblance of privacy is to fiercely guard your own.  Also, when you're the key to the existence of mankind, the Holy Grail of the X-Files, always the target of manipulation and coveted by the forces of good and evil, you probably don't trust very easily.

"I trust you," Gibson said. 

Monica looked up at him, unsure whether to be intrigued, or feel invaded.  

“And I trust John,” he said, then smiled awkwardly.  "I'm sorry again.  Sometimes it's difficult for me to separate thought from voice, especially when I'm not looking directly at a person."

"No, it's okay.  It just catches me off guard a little."  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.  She tried to reword in her mind how to better phrase her question.  "What's it like?  Do you ever go crazy from all the noise?  I mean, people are always thinking, even in their sleep."

He took a moment, looking thoughtful. 

"It's hard to explain what it's like for me, just like it would be hard for you to explain silence to me.  When I was younger, maybe five or six years old, I began to understand that what I heard in my head were the thoughts of other people.  It frightened me, especially when I understood that this was not something everyone could do.  But the older I've gotten, the more conditioned I've become to it."

"It's not overwhelming?"  Monica couldn't imagine staying sane if she could never have quiet.  It would be like forever living in a cafeteria, with constant, never-ending chatter that was completely insignificant. 

"It was, but now it's more like... selective listening.  I’ve heard that parents can tune out the noise of several kids playing in a room, but the minute their child calls for them, or cries, their parent’s ears pick it up.  It’s the same for me, I guess.  I can pinpoint what I want to listen to, and block everything else out,” he said.  He smirked shyly, “It’s harder for me to ignore voices when there are fewer people in a room around me." 

That made sense.  Monica had never been a parent, but she'd been around children a lot.  And there had been a few boyfriends she had used this skill on as well.  "Like a deep focus."

"Yes, exactly."

"Are you just a receiver, or can you also send... ah, signals?"

"I used to think that I could only pick up thoughts like a one way radio.  But during the time when I lived at the School for the Deaf, I became close friends with a hearing impaired girl.  She was totally deaf, and could speak very little.  I couldn't sign yet, but one day I wanted to ask her a question.  I had formed it in my head, and intended to write it down for her to read.  She answered me before I could find a pen."

"You don't think that perhaps she was just reading your mind?  That she was also telepathic?"

"That's what I thought at first, but she was never able to do it again, except for when I wanted her to.  That was the first time I realized I had some control over it.  That I could direct a thought with my mind to another person."

Monica shifted a little in her seat.  Her eyes were wide, completely fascinated.  This was the kind of thing she had looked for her whole career, and the sad thing was she'd known for ten years of his abilities but had never bothered to ask him about them.  Why she hadn't talked to Gibson about this a long time ago was something she could not explain. 

No, she could explain it.  John had taken Gibson back to Arizona to protect him shortly after Mulder and Scully had "disappeared."  He had told her not to follow him, and she had listened. 

It hadn't happened like that exactly, but the end result was the same.  When John had returned to the bureau after an "extended leave of absence," she'd already been transferred to San Juan, working there for about a year before she resigned from the FBI.  They'd sent a few emails before she quit, and he'd even come out to see her once under the pretense of following a lead, but essentially that had been the last they'd really spoken to each other.  When he finally quit a few years ago, Monica hadn't even found out about it until a few months after the fact, and that had been through a colleague of hers at her new job where she was a counselor at the Puerto Rican version of the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

That John was here now with Gibson was actually somewhat of a surprise to her.  She'd come looking for Gibson, thinking that he would have a unique insight into Joy.   Monica thought that maybe he could help her learn what had happened. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure at the moment how she had known where to look for Gibson, either.  She hadn't seen or had any contact with him in ten years.

She looked up at him.  "It was you, wasn't it?" 

Gibson shook his head, catching her meaning.  "No, I think it was Joy."

"Come again?  She didn't even know about you before yesterday."

"She called out... sent a signal.  I received it.  I answered it."

"I was under the impression that you could only hear those in close proximity to you.  I didn't think your abilities reached that far.  "

"They don't.  But hers do."

"So then what?  She knew you were here and then directed me with her mind to find you?"  She said, half-joking.

Gibson nodded.  As open as she was to believing in extreme phenomena, Monica was having trouble wrapping her brain around this one.  Not only was Gibson telling her that Joy was telepathic, but that she was some kind of super transmitter.  Looks like they'd better call a locksmith, because there was a new key to everything in the X-Files.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Western Nebraska

December 21, 2012

7:09 am

"Mulder?"  Scully reached over to touch his cheek.  He'd been mumbling in his sleep for several minutes and now he was mildly thrashing his head back and forth.  Thankfully he'd been asleep for most of the night because Scully's eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the second.  They needed to switch places unless they wanted to end up in the ditch with most of the other cars on the road.  They'd stopped seeing emergency vehicles sometime after midnight.  They'd gotten out to check on one driver who'd gone off the road in a deserted stretch of Nebraska highway.  The car was cold; the accident clearly had happened quite a while before, but the driver was still hot.  He was also very dead. 

The man had lesions on his face and hands that resembled radiation burns -- burns similar to the type found on survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  If it was radiation, not a virus causing the deadly epidemic, Scully could not figure out for the life of her why she and Mulder were perfectly healthy.  Her serum would have little effect on preventing them from contracting radiation sickness.  Just to be safe, they'd decided not to stop and check on any more stranded drivers.  Both of them had already been exposed to the snow, which was clearly the carrier either way, but until they knew exactly what was going on, there was no need to risk unnecessary exposure to what had proven itself to be a lethal affliction. 

They neared the Wyoming border as the first light of day rose over the horizon on December 21.  It occurred to Scully that the closer she presumably got to her son, the more she realized she still imagined him as a baby.  He'd be approaching twelve years old soon; nearly a teenager, but in her mind's eye he would always be the innocent, mild mannered child that she loved with all her heart but could not protect.  And it made her heart ache more with each mile they moved closer to him.  She rarely let herself indulge in imagining what life would have been like if things had been different.  What if she and Mulder had been left alone, free to raise William like normal parents?  It was too painful to think of such things and normally she would force the thought out of her brain.

But every once in a while, she would let her mind drift to some random fictional day -- a holiday -- and she would picture waking up on Christmas morning.  Mulder would be seated next to William near the lighted tree, as they both inspected their cache noisily in an effort to wake her up so they could get on with the present pillage.  They wouldn't know that she had been spying on them, amused and content as her boys made piles of their spoils.  After a while, her own excitement to see William open his presents would move her into the family room and the wonderful sound of tearing paper and laughter would fill the room.

Scully shook her head, shaking the image out of her brain, out of her heart.  Things had not worked out that way.  Her fate, Mulder's fate and William's fate had taken them down another road, and she could not change the past no matter how hard her imagination tried.  It was time to meet this life's destiny head on.

"Mulder?  Wake up."  She gently squeezed his shoulder, keeping her voice soft.  She smiled at him as she flicked on the truck’s blinker and veered off the road to the shoulder.  Not that there was need for such courtesy.  They were the only living souls on the highway, save for the random solo vehicle kicking up snow zooming past them.  The more she thought about it, the more it seemed strange.  With all that had happened, they hadn't seen a single government or military vehicle on the road; nothing since the FEMA cadre in South Dakota, and a few minor wrecks shortly after.  "I need you to drive now." 

He blinked his eyes open, momentary confusion glossed over them like the shade on a window flying open, letting in the sunlight.  The glazed look in his eyes passed quickly and he sat up straight in the seat.  "Where are we?"

"We're close to Wyoming.  I think another hour or so and we'll cross the border.  I can't keep my eyes open though."

"Oh, okay."  He unbuckled his seat belt and they both exited the truck, crossing each other's path, but not touching, at the hood of the car.  A moment later, they were back on the road, driving slightly faster thanks to Mulder's lead foot. 

"You were dreaming," Scully said after a moment, hoping to coax him to talk.  Perhaps he was still groggy from his sleep, but he seemed sullen again, same as nearly every day for the past few months.  She didn't want him to revert back to that state, both for his own health and her sanity.  Also, she honestly wanted to know about his dream. 

She decided to wait until later to discuss with him the lack of emergency crews and what that might mean.  Right now she wanted to talk to him, but not about their quest, if that’s what it still was.  She just wanted to talk.  The past few months had pushed them farther apart more so than the past ten years combined, but she still loved him and she missed him.  Strange how being stuck with someone every day for a decade can make that person seem far away, in some ways more than if you had been physically apart.

"Yeah," he said.  His eyes stayed transfixed ahead of him and the firmness in his voice suggested to her that he expected a fight.  She couldn't blame him.  Both of them had built up their defenses fairly well.

"Tell me about it," she asked.  He made a gruff noise, but didn't speak.  "Mulder?  Please.  I really want to hear about it."  He turned toward her briefly, seeming to assess her sincerity.  It hurt her that she had done that to him; made him afraid of sharing his thoughts with her.  Truth was, she still wasn't convinced that William would be at the end of this road.  She wasn't sure if that was due to doubt in Mulder, or because of her own protective wall.  "Please?"

He either decided she really wanted to hear, or he was just tired of this little dance they had perfected, because he sighed, bit his lower lip, and nodded.  "It was the dream where we're all on the dock and William and I are fishing."

"Mmm."  He'd told her of this dream before.  It was a pleasant one, and she could almost see it as clearly as he did by now.  It reminded her of her own childhood, of her father teaching herself and her brothers how to catch 'the big one' while her mother and Melissa lounged on the beach, catching rays in the days before the concerns of skin cancer.  It was a sweet memory of childhood that she longed to emulate with her own family one day.  "I like that one."

"This time it was different.  William caught a fish, but then a shark jumped out of the water and ate his fish."

"Sounds exciting."  She closed her eyes, letting the images relax her and allowing the feeling of contentment lull her to sleep.

"I suppose.  Except then he said something to me.  I think it was the *real* William talking."  Scully opened her eyes and turned toward him, breaking the spell of the fantasy. 

"What did he say?"

"That we're running out of time and he needs us, now."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

10:06 am

As the truck crept forward, the driver was mindful of alerting the occupants of the two-story farmhouse of his arrival.  The vehicle’s lights and engine were off and it coasted the last few yards of the long dirt driveway in neutral.  The driver and his companion looked towards each other, each silently wondering if this was the place.  With a nod, the driver told the other it was, and he applied the vehicle's brake and brought it to a full stop. 

They stealthily exited the vehicle and walked cautiously toward the front door, passing a half installed basketball hoop along the way.  It seemed every light was on in the house, but little sound could be heard from the people they presumed were inside it. 

It was the moment of truth.  The boy they had searched for a long time was now within their reach, and so was the power he possessed.  The tall one, the driver, opened the screen door to the house, pushed open the storm door and walked inside.  He heard what sounded like crying coming from somewhere upstairs.  As soon as he made that connection, the crying stopped and the house was graveyard quiet.  The driver nodded to his partner to follow him and they both started towards the hallway leading to the stairway. 

At the top of the landing, one of the bedroom doors was open.  A tiny swoosh of wind came from inside that room.  The driver motioned for his partner to wait at the top of the stairs, while he continued down the hallway toward the bedroom alone.  He pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside the master bedroom.  Inside the room lying on the bed, was a woman who looked to be asleep, and on the floor was an unconscious man.  The boy knelt next to him on the floor clutching the man's shirt.  The boy, his face tear-streaked, looked up at the driver with fear.  This brought sorrow to the driver's heart.  Surely the boy would know he was there to protect him.

"Is he in there?"  The driver's partner called from outside the room, impatient to wait any longer. 

"Yes.  Wait there for another minute," he called.  Then he turned back toward the boy and tried to soften his posture.  Perhaps he seemed more menacing than he felt.  This was, after all, just a twelve-year old child, and he was a big, strong, adult the boy had never met before.  "Hello, William.  I'm very pleased to meet you." 

The boy stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.  The driver stepped closer.  As he did so, William slid back, still clutching the shirt of the man on the floor.  His action was more from instinct than conscious thought.  "Don't be afraid.  We're here to help you," the driver said.  William shook his head back and forth, but did not speak.

Again, the driver's partner called from the hall, "I'm coming in there."  Before the driver could protest, his partner stepped around him through the doorway.  "We're running out of time."  William's eyes jumped quickly to the new face coming towards him.  If he was afraid of the driver, he was terrified of the other.

After stepping into the room towards the boy, the driver's partner began to shake violently.  His arms and head flailed wildly, shrouded in pain.  With a gasp, the motion stopped, and the driver’s partner lay on the floor completely still.

The driver stood gaping at his friend, completely stunned by what had just happened.  He looked to William, pleading with him with his eyes, wanting an explanation for what had just taken place.  The boy seemed to be in a state of surprise, bordering on shock.  The driver bent over and felt for a pulse of the man who lay on the floor.  There was none.

"He's dead."  The driver looked upwards toward the ceiling, and lifted his hands up as if offering up a sacrifice to God.  "I don't understand.  I thought you'd be pleased.  We've found him.  Quetzalcoatl has returned."

"What is going on?  Who the hell are you?"  The other man, the formerly unconscious man, whom the driver assumed was William's earthly father began to shout as he struggled to get to his feet.

The driver, now in a state of shock himself, looked at William’s father, confusion plastered all over his face.  He moved his gaze back and forth between William and the father.  "My name is Liam.  I've come so that your son can take his rightful place at the side of God."

"What?"  The father's voice boomed, even as his face dripped with sweat and his body shivered.  He glanced down at the floor, seeing the body of the Liam’s partner, and his mouth gaped open at the horror of the scene in front of him.  “How did you get in here?”

William’s father turned around toward the nightstand next to his side of the bed, and opened the drawer.  He reached inside and pulled out a six shot revolver and pointed it at Liam.  "Stay there!" he said.

"Please, I'm here to help."  Liam held his hands up in a posture of surrender, confused.  Why should they fear him?  Was he not the messenger of God?  Was he not here to protect the Serpent King, the Great Unifier, the boy who would lead them all to peace and the dawning of the coming new age?  Liam took a step towards William in spite of his father’s command, hands still raised. 

"I said don't move!"  Rob bellowed.

Liam stopped in his tracks and lowered his head as tears spilled down his cheeks.  Everything had gone wrong.

^^^^^^^^^^

Washington, D.C.

December 21, 2012

12:01 pm

"Where's the damn status report?"  The man punched at a button on the speakerphone, and it clicked off.  He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the large, heavy oak desk, and in his mouth his tongue twirled a wooden toothpick between his teeth while he waited for his sorry excuse for a project manager to give him what he had requested an hour ago.

Toothpick Man heard the distinctive sound of knuckles wrapping tentatively on the other side of the door separating his office from the hallway, quickly followed by someone behind the door trying to stifle a cough.

"Get in here!"  The Toothpick Man had little patience for delays, and he had no desire to coddle inept performers this late in the game.  Everything he'd been working towards for over a decade was about to come to fruition. 

The door to the office opened quickly and a shorter man, about five foot, six inches tall, walked through it.  He clutched half a ream's worth of papers as he shuffled his feet inside.  His brow was glazed with sweat, and the Toothpick Man would have laughed out loud if he hadn't been so preoccupied with the content of that stack of papers.

"Well?"  The Toothpick Man walked around the big desk to stand in front of it.  This move made the shorter man take a step backward.  He no longer had the buffer of the wooden desk and the Toothpick Man delighted in the discomfort he inflicted on his subordinate.  "Spill it, Davis." 

Davis cleared his throat.  "Phase One has progressed more rapidly than we had anticipated.  The pathology of the virus is a little over twenty-four hours for total biological systems failure."

"What percentage are we looking at?"

"Well, it's still early, but it seems the virus infects about ninety percent.  Death rates are harder to ascertain at this time, but it should be pretty close to the same.  Their immune system creates very little resistance.  If they get it, they will die."

"Will we be ready to go to Phase Two on time?"  This was the heart of what he wanted to know.  This plan had been set in motion longer than he had been alive – as a human or in his enhanced form.  If the Toothpick Man believed in mythology, he could say the plan existed since the dawn of human history on earth.  But he really didn't care for mythology or religion, one way or the other.  What he knew was that he was in charge of the North American Continent Operations, and if he screwed it up, he might as well take an iron bath.

"We should be ready, sir," Davis said, stuttering slightly as he tried to spit out the words.  He raised a shaky hand and scratched at the back of his neck, rubbing the bumpy, protruding bone there. 

"Should be?"  The Toothpick Man growled.  How Davis had been chosen for this project was a mystery.  The man, even if he was a Beta Hybrid was completely incompetent and a sissy to boot.  If the Toothpick Man had the option, the subordinate would have been sent to the laboratory for vaccine experiments. Hopefully, he'd be tested on a bad batch.  The Toothpick Man didn't have that option, however.  Davis was special.  Toothpick Man clenched his jaw as the thought came to him.  If he was forced, the Toothpick Man would have to admit that Davis was more significant than he was, at least to the Grays they both reported to.  He had been hand picked and then transformed, and it would take an act of God to remove Davis from the project. Literally.

At least for now, Davis reported to him, a lowly Gamma Hybrid.  Toothpick man hoped Davis appreciated the irony in that.  It probably had escaped him.

Davis cleared his throat.  "Will be ready, sir.  I meant, we *will* be ready." 

"Good," Toothpick Man said.

"In fact, the operation will probably be much easier than we anticipated.  The wide-spread panic we predicted hasn't happened.  There are small pockets, but most of those have been handled with little incident.  The fact is, most people are either too sick, or have family members who are too sick to cause any trouble.  Ah... there is one small problem, however."

The Toothpick Man, who had just felt relaxation creep up on him a little, grumbled.  If it were so small of a problem, Davis would be able to handle it on his own.  Or, should be able to handle it on his own.  He was talking about a Beta who was still afraid of spiders. 

"What small problem?"

"Most of the survivors are showing up in geographically unsafe areas.  We'd planned on that, but what we didn't plan on was the speed of infection. Consequently, most of the human forces, such as FEMA and the military have suffered severe reduction.  I don't know that we'll be able to send those groups in to pull the survivors out of the Iron Saturation Zones.  The survivors could be embedded there and there's not much we can do about it short of bombing everything.  We don't have the manpower, not with all the defections."

"You mean treason," he said, gruffly, his teeth clenched together.  This was a very, very sore point.  "The option to bomb is still on the table."

"Sir?  That would eliminate infrastructure.  It would cause too much damage.  That's not part of the plan."

"Why do we need the infrastructure anyway?  It's all crap," Toothpick Man said, waving his hand in front of him, somewhat bored by Davis’ concerns.

"It's not part of the plan, sir.  I don’t think we –“

“Calm down, Davis.  I was only joking,” he knew Davis was right.  “Kinda,” he added.  He couldn't fathom why it was so important to save all structures.  Of course, it would be nice to not have to clean up giant messes, but if the destruction was only in isolated pockets, who the hell should care?  He certainly didn't.  When all of this was over, he planned on heading west to Los Angeles -- or what would be left of it -- and taking a much-earned retirement.  He'd move into a former celebrity's house in Malibu and listen to the sound of the sea.  For now, he still had plenty of work to do before that dream could come true.

"What about the kids?"

"The kids, sir?"  Davis could be so dense. 

The kids.  The children.  The Twelve.  They were only the most significant commodities on the planet, possibly the galaxy.  The children were the keys to their ability to colonize the planet.  Those kids.  After a moment of silent staring between the two men, if one could still call them that, a light flicked on in Davis's brain.  Synapses fired, and he finally understood the question.  "Oh, the Children. I'm sorry, sir.  So far, there has been no reaction to the virus.  Of course, we lost our control subject, so--"

The Toothpick Man scowled.  If there was one hitch in the operation, that was it.  One of the Twelve had been kidnapped.  It just so happened she had been the only control subject among them, which made things complicated.  Someone had been sent after her, but he had not returned and they'd lost all contact with him.  It was going to be difficult to determine what effect an immunized Alpha Hybrid would have on the final release of the virus. 

Preliminary studies did not look good.

That was out of the Toothpick Man's control, now.  He could only concentrate on following the plan from this point on, and he intended to make it perfect.  "I want another update in one hour."

"Yes sir.  Do you want us to move the start of Phase Two up?"

The Toothpick Man's brow knotted into what looked like a painful jumble of flesh.  He took a deep breath so that he could calm down the sudden reflux of anger that stirred in his stomach, and leaned back on the edge of his desk.  He placed his hands on either side of himself to support his weight.  "No, I do not want us to move up the start of Phase Two.  You may want to re-read the plan Davis, but this operation is coordinated world wide and the date has been set for..." the Toothpick Man smiled, his jaw clenched and his lips barely moved as he nodded his head, "... a very long time.”

"Right.  Of course, I’m sorry, sir.  I'll report back in an hour." 

Davis turned on his heels and headed back toward the office door, no doubt relieved to move into the relative safety of the hallway. 

Once Davis had pulled the door shut behind him, the Toothpick Man walked back around the desk and opened the middle drawer. He pulled out a rectangular box made of cardboard which opened on a paper hinge. He pulled out a cigar, tore off the cellophane wrap, and bit off one end.   He sat down in his chair, reclined back a bit, and lifted his feet up, placing them on the desk with a deep thud.  Everything was going smoothly, in spite of the earlier setbacks.  With any luck, he'd be choosing one of the newly vacant homes on the west coast within the month. 

Then he could finally relax in absolute peace.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^


	2. Part 2

PART TWO

CHAPTER SIX

Lake Tahoe

Spring 2008

The snow had receded to almost a third of the way up the mountain slope, yet the cool spring air felt as if winter had not yet said its farewell. Some of the mountain passes were still closed to car traffic, and skiers continued to flock to the slopes in a desperate, last ditch effort to ride the great white surf. Cocooned by craggy formations, the lake's sparkling water reminded Mulder of a Catholic baptismal fountain, seemingly protecting tears shed from Heaven. Scully once told him she did not think there could be a more beautiful place on earth, or one that was closer to God, than Lake Tahoe. She must have been rubbing off on him, because Mulder had to agree.

Scully and Mulder had spent nearly a year there, almost five years after they began their lives as fugitives--as people without names. They'd managed to find a small cabin for cheap rent on the Nevada side, close enough to the glitz of South Tahoe, yet far enough away to go unnoticed.

Mulder opened the door to the cabin, and quickly stepped inside. "I got it," he said. He held up a small manila envelope, and waved it back and forth in the air. "We should be good for a while with this."

Mulder closed the cabin door behind him and the latch clicked loudly as it caught. He strode toward Scully, shed his nylon windbreaker, and dropped it on the floor. She sat on the sofa, which faced a large picture window. The window framed an evergreen covered slope that slid down toward the shore, giving them a splendid view of the lake and the white-capped mountains surrounding them. Scully set her tea down on the coffee table, and twisted her body around to face Mulder.

"Was there a note?" Mulder could tell she was trying to hide the eagerness in her voice, to sound casual. Scully picked at a non-existent thread in the sofa, giving away her anxiousness and Mulder suppressed a smile. He didn’t want to find joy in her anxiety, but he found her very cute when she tried to appear nonchalant. 

It had been almost eight months since Scully’s mother had managed to send them a personal message along with the cash she had been smuggling to them. Because of a financial arrangement Mulder had made before William’s birth, the two of them had little need to earn money, which was good because life on the run made holding down a normal job very difficult. Unfortunately, not working only compounded their seclusion from the rest of the world, making the rare letter from her mother feel like a holiday to Scully, better than winning the lottery.

"Mulder? A note?" Mulder frowned, furrowed his brow. Scully sighed and lowered her gaze to her hands resting on her lap, her enthusiasm fading. 

When he could bear to torture her no longer, Mulder's lips curled up into a smile, and he pulled a small piece of white paper from inside the envelope. He walked closer to her, and sat down beside her on the sofa. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he placed the note in her hand. "I was just teasing."

Scully's eyes lit up as she closed her hand around the letter. She pulled Mulder into a tight embrace, made a bit awkward by their positions on the sofa. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips lightly on the sensitive, goose-fleshed skin there. He leaned into her, and his hands found their way to her back, where they traced lazy lines soothingly. 

"I'm not mad," she said, after a moment. Her voice was low, muffled by his body. "I wasn't expecting a note anyway." She pulled away from him to look into his eyes. Her fingertips lingered on the back of his neck, teasing the fine downy hairs. She smiled to reassure him and leaned in for a gentle kiss on his lips. The contact was brief, but tender, making a soft popping sound on the release.

"What does it say?” she asked. “Did you read it?" 

"It's your letter, Scully. I got as far as 'Dear Dana' and stopped," he said.

"Mulder, I don’t mind if you read my mother’s letters. She usually has as much to say to you as she does to me.”

"I know,” he said, not even fooling himself. “I didn't want to intrude on your family."

Scully tilted her head slightly to the side, and moved her hand to his cheek. "Mulder, you're my family too. My mother feels that way just as much as I do." She rubbed the short stubble on his face and spoke in a low voice. Mulder loved when she used that tone. He thought of it as her bedroom voice, though he bet that if other guys heard it, they would not conjure up an image of porn-star. Her voice was low and melodic, rich, filled with oak-barrel smoke making it sensual, not quite sex kitten.

Of course, he wouldn't object if the sex kitten voice ever made an appearance, either.

He lowered his lashes and curved his mouth into a crooked smile. No matter how many times Scully told him he was her family or no matter how many times Scully's mother asked about him in her encrypted letters, Mulder could never get past the memory of Bill Scully, Jr. calling him an ass. Or was it a sonofabitch? It was hard to keep track sometimes.

When it came to Scully's family, Mulder always felt he was on the outside looking in. Being on the run had made traditional Scully Family Christmas mornings and Easter brunches a bit difficult to keep up. He was sure her family blamed him for that. He knew Scully loved him, but their unusual relationship and lifestyle kept the word family out of his lexicon. He still thought of them as partners. Even though they had a child together, and he thought of Scully as the most significant person he would ever know, his soul mate even, he wasn't sure that they would ever be a family. 

Especially since that one thing -- that child between them -- had only been in their mutual presence for less than one week out of eight years. 

"Mulder? You know that, right?" Scully asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

Scully tilted his face up with her fingertip, gently prodding his chin, trying to convince him of something he wasn’t sure he could ever believe, or wasn't ready to believe. The key was to distract her, so he leaned in for another long kiss. "I'm going to take a shower," he said after, his face still close. 

He shifted his body, tried to push himself off of the sofa. Scully's hand held his forearm, pulling him back down to his seat. "Read it to me," she said.

"Scully, it's okay,” he said, wanting to give her some privacy. “You can tell me about it later. Take your time."

"You're much better at deciphering the code than I am,” she said, daring him. “It will take me twice as long, and I always have to use a pen and paper. Please? Save me some time?" She smiled mischievously and raised an eyebrow. 

Years ago, they'd developed a fairly complex code system. Actually, Langly had developed it, and Mulder and Scully had learned it. That was years before Super Soldiers and being on the lam. Mulder had simply been paranoid then, with no real evidence to back up his conspiracy theories. Scully had humored him at first, but then when she'd lost interest in improving her skills, he began re-writing case notes she'd written into code, or RingoText, as Byers had dubbed it, and leaving the notes for her to discover. He would leave personal messages in her briefcase, in her car, even in email letters. She never admitted it to him, but he suspected she enjoyed his unusual way of forced tutoring. 

He was particularly fond of one memorable lesson involving melted chocolate, a swizzle stick and less clothing than Scully would ever admit to in front of a grand jury.

The code made it possible for Mulder and Scully to communicate with a few trusted individuals without using a telephone. Any intercepted message would appear to be gibberish to whoever found it. So far, it had worked, though a couple of times the code proved to be a bit too complex. Mulder wasn't sure if it was Skinner, her mother, Scully or himself who had screwed up the deciphering, but the result had been no cash pickup.

They'd eaten a lot of mac’ and cheese that month. 

Shortly before William was born, Mulder had liquidated all of his assets, and stuffed them into a Swiss bank account. He wanted to ensure that no matter what happened to him, William and Scully would be taken care of. He created a fake identity using a few of the skills he’d learned from the Lone Gunmen. The bank account was set up to automatically deposit monthly sums into the account of a third party benefactor. The idea was to make it look like a trust fund, or a stipend.

He had chosen Scully's mother, Margaret, as the lucky benefactor, since it was easy to make it look as if the money was coming from the late Captain Scully's estate, doled out in small increments to avoid unnecessary attention. 

According to the plan, after receiving the monthly *inheritance,* Mrs. Scully would pass it along to her daughter, all in cash, of course. When Scully had been forced to go on the run with him, Mulder had to come up with an alternate plan. It had been a risky idea, but they’d decided to mail Mrs. Scully the key to Langly’s code. Since then, she’d been mailing cash to pre-arranged post office boxes throughout the country as Mulder and Scully traveled.

So long as they didn't spend frivolously, Mulder and Scully would have enough money to last them for several more years, at least until the impending date of Colonization arrived. God willing, it would last them beyond that *uneventful* date. 

Scully cleared her throat, smiled, engaging him in the silent challenge. He could read the code faster than she could, but they both knew he wasn't that much better. 

To take the bait, or not to take the bait? That was the question.

The letter was short, as usual. It was too tedious to write anything longer than a page or two using code. Unlike Maggie Scully, who used a decoder key to help her turn English into RingoText, Mulder effortlessly translated in his head. He read slightly slower than he would a normal letter, but to a person who didn't listen to him read often, it would barely be noticeable. 

Mrs. Scully spoke of missing them both enormously. She prayed for their safety, and for the day when they could come home. Soon, she hoped, all the usual things to say when you haven't seen your daughter in more than six years. One of the hardest things for her mother, according to the note, was constantly lying to the boys, meaning Bill Jr., and Charlie. To most of the world, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were presumed dead, killed in a fatal explosion in New Mexico shortly after breaking Mulder out of jail. That was the official FBI report. Of course, the line between official and unofficial was all about who wrote the report. 

The last thing Scully's mother wrote about was Bill's new baby. Her mother hadn't mentioned Bill’s wife Tara was pregnant in her last communication. She must not have known. At any rate, the couple had a girl now, a baby sister to their son Matthew. They named her Dana Melissa, but they still hadn't decided what they would actually call her. They'd been calling her Katy, for a reason Maggie wasn't sure of, so unless things changed, it was likely that would be the name that stuck. 

Her Christening was in a week.

Mulder finished the letter, folded it neatly back along the creases and handed it to Scully. She took it slowly, and brought her hands down to her lap, where she absently twirled the note with her fingers. If she had been excited earlier about getting the message from her mom, she now seemed equally as sad. 

"I didn't think they could have more children. I know they tried to have Matthew for a long time," Scully said quietly. 

Mulder scooted closer to her, and laid back on the sofa, pulling her with him. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she moved one hand to his leg, gently caressing his inner thigh through his jeans. 

They sat there silently for several moments. Mulder didn't have to be a genius to understand the thoughts that must have been going through Scully's mind. He was sure her thoughts weren't far off from his anyway. Just as they had danced around their feelings for each other in the early days of their FBI partnership, these days they danced around the missing part of their family. 

Correction: Their missing son. 

Not that they never spoke of him, or of the adoption. It was quite the opposite. Much of their time was spent looking for William, especially as Scully made progress on a serum which could potentially fight the coming Plague. 

They talked about him, but not about how they *felt* about him. If they discussed their grief over being separated from their son, it was rare. 

"Do you think Matthew wishes he'd gotten a little brother, instead?" 

"I don't know. Little sisters aren't so bad," Mulder said. He rested his chin on top of Scully's head, and smiled slightly into her hair. "They tend to idolize their big brothers."

Scully huffed out a small laugh. “I certainly idolized Bill, believe it or not,” she said. Scully inhaled deeply, and her breath quivered as she let it out. "If I had sent William to stay with Bill, Matthew would have a brother and a sister."

"Scully..." Mulder sat up, twisted his body so that he could face her. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't play the ‘what if' game."

"Don't you ever think about it, Mulder? You must. You didn't even get to decide." Tears welled up in Scully’s eyes and trickled down her cheek. It had been a long time since she'd cried over William, as far as Mulder knew. The past year had actually been a fairly happy one for them. They were living in a beautiful place, they had each other, and they still had plenty of time. Emotional evasion could be a wonderful thing.

Mulder wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. Did he think about it? Sure he did. If he had been strong enough to face up to the forces that threatened him back then, they'd still have their son. They'd be oblivious to the future, and Scully would still have her mother; her family. He couldn't say he thought she made the right choice. But the hell if he knew what the right choice had been. The 'what if' game only had losers, so he preferred not to play. Not today. 

Instead of telling her all of that, he kissed her--hard.

And she kissed him back.

It may have taken them seven years to attempt this form of discussion in the first place, but since going on the run, they'd perfected it. 

Make love, not talk.

Mulder's hands moved through her hair, massaging her scalp as his lips and tongue roamed the skin below her ear, her throat and mouth. She pulled him against her body, grasping his head just below the hairline, laying them both back onto the sofa. Her right leg draped languidly over the edge of the sofa and Mulder shifted, better dispersing his weight above her, trying not to allow his full mass to press her into the oversized cushions. 

He flinched infinitesimally when her warm hands found their way under his shirt and onto the sensitive skin of his stomach, tugging the shirt up with them. He paused the hungry exploration of her lips for a moment, sitting up to pull his white cotton t-shirt off. He growled as he tossed the shirt towards the window, where it fell into a heap on the floor. The scene outside the cabin was beautiful and it felt to Mulder like they were floating above the clouds.

But he only looked outside for a moment.

Mulder straddled her hips, helping her sweater meet the same fate his t-shirt had, then he crushed her again with the full length of his body. With the sensation of skin touching skin, his need to feel her intensified, and he welcomed it when she clawed at his back, marking him. 

"Mulder..." she gasped, as his mouth made contact with her breast. And that was the moment all thought left him. Whatever they had been discussing before was irrelevant. There was only sensation and desire, woven within pain and pleasure, two emotions that were paradoxically the same.

When it was over, they lay with their legs tangled together, quiet, breathing deeply. Mulder wrapped his arms around Scully, and she curled against him, partially on the sofa, and partially covering his long body. She was nestled along the taut Latissimus muscles covering the sides of his ribs. Her hand smoothed back and forth over his stomach, tracing the line of sparse hair from his chest to his navel. 

Not knowing what else to say, he asked her if she was cold. She said that she wasn't. 

"Thirsty?"

"No," she said.

"Can I get you anything?"

She closed her eyes as sleep pressed against her lids.

"I'm fine."

He knew she was lying, but he didn't call her bluff. Instead, he let sleep claim him, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Wyoming Badlands

December 21, 2012

7:20 am

The early morning wind blew in strong gusts and Scully pulled her hair back from her face as she looked down to the beautiful landscape below. Worn out hills of crumbling clay rolled over the earth as far as she could see, seeming to stretch for eternity through the horizon. She stood near a National Park Service sign informing her that long ago bands of Lakota roamed the land hunting massive herds of buffalo until the white pioneers nearly caused their extinction, both of the buffalo and the Native people. The sun barely peeked above the horizon and Scully wrapped her arms around her body trying to keep the winter morning chill away.

Behind her stood a concrete building, which was basically just a large restroom and vending area. A sign proclaimed that one could get visitor information at a booth within, but nobody was manning the desk today. Maybe it was too early, but Scully guessed that it was closed for business indefinitely. 

After using the facilities, she had come outside while Mulder tried to filch peanut M&M's and some potato chips from the vending machine. He’d run out of sunflower seeds somewhere in Nebraska and had begun to show symptoms of withdrawal. A fidgety and irritable Mulder always made a long drive oh-so-enjoyable. 

It felt good to stretch her legs. It seemed like most of the past ten years had been spent inside of a car, even before that, and somehow standing above this beautiful vast valley reminded her of how much of her life she had missed. She and Mulder had been on the run, but she still felt imprisoned. 

She wanted to go home.

She missed her mother and her brothers, and now more than ever she worried about their safety. Part of her wondered if it wouldn't have been wiser to drive east rather than to Wyoming. Mulder believed that William was waiting for them here, but Scully could not be sure. What she knew was that her mother was alive and well, and she had already seen what this virus could do.

Guilt gnawed at her. Given the choice, she was more willing to chase a phantom William than save her own living mother. She felt terrible, but as much as she doubted what was at the end of this journey, she knew she would not turn back now.

"Hey Scully," Mulder called, his feet crunching on the parking lot gravel. "Ready to go?"

She twisted her body around and gave him a slight smile, nodding her head. The pockets of his coat bulged significantly, presumably loaded with more than just a bag or two of candy. In his hands he carried two paper cups, and Scully could see steam rising from their brims. 

When he reached her, he handed her one of the cups filled with light brown coffee almost the color of cinnamon.

"It's from a vending machine, so don't blame me if it's undrinkable," he said, smirking.

"Thank you. I'm sure it's fine," she said, bringing the cup to her lips, blowing gently on the hot liquid. She turned back to the view in front of her, and he stood alongside her, looking out.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, taking a sip.

“Yeah,” he said. She noticed him glancing between the expansive view and her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, then sighed when she saw his skeptical expression. “I was thinking about my mother.” She turned back to look straight ahead. 

“You’re worried about her?” he asked, more of a statement than a question.

“This virus, Mulder,” she said, shaking her head, “It’s so fast.”

“We mailed her the stuff. I’m sure she’s fine,” he said.

“What if she never got it? Or didn’t understand what it was?” she said. “We didn’t even try to call her. She’s probably terrified.”

“I’m sure she understands,” Mulder said without much emotion. 

“How can she when I don’t even understand?”

Mulder kicked a small stone away from his boot and pursed his lips together. “Are you saying you want to go back?” he asked, tension filling his voice.

She didn’t turn to face him, just continued to stare straight ahead onto the ancient country below. “No, I don’t. I just feel that no matter which way I go, I’m not doing enough. Either way, we lose. When is it our turn to win, Mulder?”

He didn’t answer. They stood silently for a moment, neither of them sipping the rest of their coffee. Finally, Mulder cleared his throat.

“We better go. We’re getting close,” he said. He threw the remaining coffee into the nearby bushes, threw the cup into an overflowing trash bin, and headed back to the truck. 

Soon after, Scully followed him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 21, 2012

4:12 pm

"Anything good on?" Doggett’s own voice felt rough from sleep. Monica twisted around in her seat on Gibson's worn-out couch, cracking the bones in her spine to see him. His face, peppered with much more than a five o’clock shadow, itched. He needed a shave, but instead, he scratched his hair adding to its bed-head chaos.

"Nothing really on at all, actually," Monica said.

He glanced over at Joy who slept in a La-Z-boy recliner adjacent to the end of the sofa. He moved his eyes past her, to the window. The rain had let up. It was still drizzling, but the heavy downpour had ended for the time being. “Where’s Gibson?” he asked. 

“He decided to take a drive, scout the surrounding area,” she said. “He wanted to look for anything that might be suspicious.” There weren’t any neighbors for miles, just desert, cactus and rattlesnakes, but the kid had a sixth sense about these things, literally. Doggett felt his stomach roll at the thought of what Gibson might find out there. 

When he didn’t respond, Monica turned back toward the television. The screen depicted several thick horizontal colored stripes indicating a lost feed on whatever channel Monica had the satellite tuned to. She pointed the remote control at the set and flicked through a few channels until she came upon a good feed. 

"A few international channels still work. We can get all the news in Siberia, of all places. Do you speak Russian?” she asked and Doggett shook his head. “And there’s a couple of local stations still up, but that's about it.”

“Can you make out what’s going on?" He came around to sit next to Monica on the sofa. He'd crashed hard sometime late this morning. His body had finally given up on him after a night of wakefulness. They'd all tried sleeping through the night, but one by one, they'd found themselves around the cheap card table in Gibson's so-called kitchen. Finally at about eleven a.m. Doggett's eyes staged a coup and took control of the rest of his body. He'd only slept for a little over four hours, but he had been dead, sleeping soundly as a child.

Once when he was five years old, his house had been struck by lightning. It had blown away the stone chimney, which happened to be just outside his bedroom window. It had happened in the middle of the night, with him fast asleep. The simultaneous boom of thunder had awakened his parents and older brother instantly, but not him. He was blissfully unaware until the next day when he saw the rocks littered about their yard. Many times during his adult life he'd wished he could sleep like that again, but never really had. This afternoon he was convinced that if aliens had dropped a ten thousand pound bomb nearby, he would not have been the wiser. 

"Well, I can't understand most of it, but people are obviously panicked,” she said. “There's a Mexican channel saying it’s Armageddon, and advocating heading to the highest elevation point you can find to welcome the coming of Christ. Make sure to bring a crucifix, a rosary and something to offer the Messiah. They suggested jalapenos," she said with a straight face.

"Jalapenos?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I guess they symbolize the burning passion of faith, or perhaps God likes his Burritos hot and spicy," she said, the corners of her mouth twitched, giving her away.

"You made that up."

"Just the burrito part," she said, smiling a full-on toothy grin, and laughed. He laughed, too. The whole thing was absurd. He never imagined he'd be sitting in the same clothes he'd been wearing for three days in a twenty-year old trailer waiting for the Apocalypse. But damn if he had a better idea of what they should do.

"There's also a Roswell, New Mexico news channel that's been up ‘round the clock," Monica said, looking back to the television.

"Roswell?"

"Apparently very few Roswell residents have gotten sick, and the reporters are advocating staying at home."

"Are they? Staying home?"

"No,” she said, shaking her head. “Roads are packed with people trying to get out of town. Why they want to leave is beyond me." She lifted her hands in the air.

Doggett shrugged. “Probably just panicking,” he said.

“I suppose, but they’re practically in the safest place in the world, maybe the universe,” she said casually.

Doggett blinked. “What do you mean?”

Monica hesitated, looking like she was unsure whether or not he was putting her on. "You're kidding, right?"

"Monica, do I look like I'm kidding?" he said, a little harsher than he’d intended.

"I assumed you knew, John. This whole area... the Southwest, the Four Corners, the Red Rocks, all the way to Roswell, New Mexico... We're basically at ground zero for Human Alien contact. If there's a chance to survive, it's here. I thought that's why you came here."

"I'm here because Gibson said to come, because he says the Super Soldiers are afraid of this area," he said. “Not that I’ve seen a Super Soldier for a very long time, but Gibson seems to think that –“

"Why do you suppose that is?" she interrupted. “Why are they afraid?”

"It’s the geology, I get it, Monica. But what difference does geology make to a virus?"

"It's just a hunch, John, but maybe this place will keep that virus away, just like it keeps the aliens away. It's why their ship crashed in Roswell in '47. That's why I took Joy to Mexico. The state we lived in, Coahuila, had a similar geology. Lot's of iron."

"But Monica, you said it was a Super Soldier who found you and Joy in Mexico."

"I know. I can't explain that." Monica let out a breath and shook her head. "I’ve gone over it a dozen times and I still have no answer. Maybe the concentration wasn't high enough. All I know is that some of the experiments with Joy involved magnetite compounds. I had hoped she could tell me more. Even before all this, she didn't like to talk about the lab."

"Well, if all it took was iron to kill the Super Soldiers, there wouldn't be any of them around at all. There's iron everywhere, in everything, the earth is made of it," he said.

She sighed. “I know. No, you're right. It doesn't make any sense."

"All I know is we're not infected,” he said softly, “and I'm not about to question it too much." He touched her hand, but held eye contact. They looked at each other silently for a moment and Doggett wondered if he should tell her something he had wanted to tell her years ago.

Joy stirred in the chair, and whimpered softly. It was the first sound Doggett had heard her make since they arrived last night. Monica stood up, breaking the moment, and took a step toward Joy, then crouched down next to her. She slid her hand over Joy's shoulder, comforting her in her sleep. 

"Joy, honey," she said, sounding motherly.

Distracted, Doggett and Monica didn’t notice when the car first pulled up in front of the trailer. When the door swung open they both jumped and Joy's eyes flashed open. Gibson walked up the steps, pulling off his wet coat as he came hurrying through the door.

"Someone's coming. I heard them on my way back," Gibson said. He sounded panicked which only added to Doggett’s unease. He'd never really seen Gibson distressed before, not overtly. The kid was always calm, at least on the surface.

"Who is it?" Doggett asked, standing up suddenly. He wished he had his gun. He'd left his personal gun at his house in Phoenix, and he'd had to give his other two back to the Bureau when he'd quit. Even though he hadn't been an agent in several years, his instincts always made him move his hand to his side to draw his weapon. Old habits, and all that.

"I don't know. It's muddled," Gibson said. “I think it’s trying to block me.”

Joy had curled herself into a tighter ball in the chair, and she was shaking her head back and forth, in a jerky motion.

"Turn off the lights," Doggett said, and pointed towards the switch. Gibson moved instantly to turn the main trailer lights off, as Doggett headed towards the kitchen. "Monica, are you armed?" 

"No. Are you?"

"Uh uh," he said, flicking off the remaining lights. It was early afternoon, but the heavy clouds and rain made it seem like it was after dusk. The trailer was off the main road and there was nothing in any direction for at least a mile, unless you counted the coyotes and rattlesnakes. A lost stranger was possible, but unlikely. You'd have to know where you were going to find the place. This was no ordinary stranger, and though nobody said it aloud, they all knew.

"Maybe it's a looter. That seems to be happening all over according to the news." Monica sounded like she didn't believe herself anymore than the men did.

"Yeah maybe. Or maybe it's the Girl Scouts selling cookies. I could really go for a box of tagalongs right now," Doggett said.

The car was about a quarter of a mile away. It headed straight for them, lights shining forward, zipping at an average speed. It only took a minute before it was parked along side of Monica's car, still idling.

"Get down! Stay away from the windows," Doggett said. He and Gibson splayed out on their bellies on the trailers floor, laying flat behind the sofa, trying to blend into the furniture. Monica tried to grab Joy, but the girl resisted. She was shaking her head back and forth, and her mouth formed the shape of words, though no sound was coming out.

"I think it's here for her," Gibson whispered to Doggett, nodding towards Joy. 

"No! No! No!" Joy shouted. Monica jumped up, ran to the girl. When Monica touched her, Joy jolted backward, nearly flipping herself and the La-Z-boy over with the force.

The vehicle’s door opened and closed with a mechanical thud. Boots crunched on gravel as their owner approached the door to the tiny trailer at an even pace, stopped. After a brief pause so quiet Doggett’s own breathing sounded like a hurricane force gale inside his head, the stranger outside knocked on the door.

"Is the sonofabitch knocking?" Doggett said, dumbfounded. He'd never known a Super Soldier to be so polite before trying to kill him. He moved from his position on the floor, realizing it was inevitable that the stranger was coming inside, and found the axe that hung in the kitchen next to the fire extinguisher. He stood behind the door's hinge, weapon raised, ready to strike at whatever came through. He didn't care if the thing was invincible or that it would likely turn him into mulch. John Doggett was not about to die without a fight.

After a moment, there was another knock. When no one moved to let the stranger in, he jiggled the door's handle, and eventually pushed his way inside. Doggett swung the axe, putting all his strength into it, landing the blade squarely in the stranger's left pectoral muscle, where it embedded with a squishy thud. 

The stranger looked down at the wound, looked at Doggett still holding onto the hilt of the weapon, slowly shook his head, but didn't say a word.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:09 pm

His wrists ached and his shoulders throbbed. 

Liam shifted in the chair, trying to find a better position, but it seemed futile. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there. There was a wind-up alarm clock on the nightstand next to the Van de Kamp’s bed, but the face was turned away from him. He could hear the methodical 'tick tock,' but could only guess at the position of the hands. Instead, he measured time by sunlight spilling into the room through the window, trailing across the floor. The stormy, cloud saturated sky made this a very inexact science.

The early December sunset approached rapidly, so Liam decided that it must be late afternoon. It had been several hours since he'd arrived at the Van de Kamp house, and there would be consequences if he didn't complete this mission and return to camp soon. He knew they would be bad, not only for him, but for all of mankind. What was left of it. Only the righteous would remain, but even they needed him to succeed or it was all for nothing. 

Above all, time was the enemy.

The room had grown intolerably quiet since the boy had left him an hour earlier. Liam never did like the solitude, especially since his time with his new family. At the camp, there always seemed to be a friendly face nearby to share a joke with, or to discuss a troublesome thought. Life at the camp was always busy, and he missed the camaraderie more than he imagined was possible.

Things had definitely not gone according to the plan.

For one thing, William seemed terrified of him. Liam had been under the impression that the boy could read his mind, but if that were true, wouldn't he have understood his intentions?

Then there was still the question of his partner, Chase whom Liam considered a friend. Chase had come to the camp only a few months before they'd left it together, hand-picked for this very important journey. 

Liam wasn't a scientist, far from it, but if he had to guess he'd say that Chase had an allergic reaction to magnetite. He knew that kind of thing would happen to those that had been transformed by the miracle alien technology and Liam wished he'd known about his friend from the beginning, because he would have respected him even more. The alien beings were truly magnificent and now Liam felt woefully inadequate in comparison.

Liam looked down toward Chase's body on the floor near the bed. There was no blood; no injury of any kind, aside from dark metallic splotches which covered his skin. It was clichéd, but he looked like he was asleep. Liam wished that his hands were free so that he could shake his friend awake. How could the one who is to bring man and creator together have done this? As the tears began to drizzle down his cheeks, Liam bowed his head. He wanted to pray. It was all he could think to do.

After a few seconds, a wet, wheezy cough broke Liam from his meditation. William's father was sprawled on the bed like a figure in a Matisse painting. He'd fallen unconscious shortly after binding Liam to the chair. It had been quite a while since Liam had heard a noise from either of William's parents, and until the father had coughed, Liam had assumed they'd finally died. Even if the parents were not really a part of his plan, Liam was glad they hadn't yet succumbed to the Plague, if for no other reason than he wanted the companionship. 

"Are you a believer, Mr. Van de Kamp?" Liam asked.

In the quiet of the room, his voice seemed amplified even to his own ears. Liam wasn't sure if the other man could hear him or not. In fact, there was little indication at all that Van de Kamp knew where he was, or that he was conscious. The solitude was overwhelming for Liam. Speaking, even if it was ultimately to himself, was better than the nerve-wracking silence.

"I didn't always believe. No, sir,” Liam said, shaking his head. “My parents were Jewish. Not devoutly so. We celebrated Hanukah, Passover, the High Holidays and the like, but mostly out of a sense of tradition, not out of any real connection to God."

Liam shifted in his chair slightly, hoping to move some pressure from one side of his body to the other. His left leg had fallen asleep, and he stomped his foot softly on the floor in an effort to rouse it. Pins and needles his mother would have said. 

From the bed, Van de Kamp let out another cough, throaty and filled with mucous. Liam craned his neck upwards, hoping to get a better look at the man, who lay prone on the bed, embedded into the soft mattress padding. When he was satisfied that Van de Kamp was still breathing, Liam continued.

"I couldn't understand a God that demanded such obedience, but who was nowhere to be found. And what about all the conflicting interpretations of religion around the world? They couldn't all be right. So, I turned away from God, and that's when He took me. He lifted me up. I saw His face. I learned the truth. William... he's so special." Liam slowly shook his head back and forth, swallowed the newly formed lump in his throat, and muttered softly, "Please, help me. Help us all."

The wind gusted, and knocked the house's front storm door closed, slamming it loudly in its frame like a judge's gavel making the final judgment on the fate of the world. Liam's failure would be the failure of mankind, and he knew it.

"Hello?" A voice called from the lower level, startling Liam more than the door had seconds earlier. He wanted to call out to it, that he was upstairs, and needed help. That he was alone. But the practical side of him, the side that usually lost in a debate, told him that whoever owned that voice might not be a friend. For once, he let that side take control.

"Is anyone here?" A man’s voice called, its tone peppered with a slight hint of gravel. Liam heard tentative footsteps entering the foyer, heavy on the hardwood floor.

"Mr. Van de Kamp? Wake up, sir. Someone’s here." Liam spoke in an urgent whisper, and leaned forward in his chair as far as his restraints would allow.

Coming from downstairs, Liam heard mumbling. There was more than one person speaking. He couldn't make out what they were saying, or distinguish one voice from the other. The mysterious footsteps seemed to be coming closer to him. The floorboards squeaked on the stairway, and Liam's heart thudded violently in his chest.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" The voice came from the hallway, not far from Mr. Van de Kamp's bedroom. Then he heard the other voice, more clearly than before. 

That voice belonged to a woman.

^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:15 pm

Scully slept lightly beside Mulder in the truck. He hadn't awakened her for the drive through town and he felt a twinge of regret for it. He couldn't explain it, but he knew this had been the town where their son had spent the past eleven years of his life. 

They passed a bait shop, and Mulder's breath hitched as an image of William and his adoptive father going fishing rolled through his mind. The town was small, essentially a one-light stop off the main highway. Charming, quaint, not run down, but a town where Mulder imagined everyone knew everyone, and cared just as much about their neighbors as they would their own family. It would be a wonderful place to grow up. Though, now it was quiet.

Cars were parked haphazardly along the sides and in the middle of the street. Businesses were dark, and not a soul could be found. It was only four o'clock in the afternoon, and though the rain could have been a factor, Mulder knew the reason the town was quiet. People weren't out because there were few people healthy enough to be out. If Mulder had ever been as pragmatic as Scully, he might have thought they were too late. Almost a day and a half had passed since the storm had started, and maybe that was too much time. But Mulder had always gone with his gut first, and his gut was telling him to keep driving through town.

Once through the small downtown area dotted with old brownstones and shops with shingles hanging above their doors and about a mile beyond the main drag, Mulder noticed a turn-off onto a dirt road. The road wasn't marked with a sign; most likely only the locals cared about it. Mulder turned onto the road, and knew that was it. One way or another, William would be at the end of that path. After twenty minutes, he saw a house, and he knew he’d been right.

Mulder drove down a winding dirt road, now mostly mud, cutting through a thin fog with the truck’s low beams. About a half a mile away, at the end of a long driveway, he could make out a brightly painted, two-story, white farmhouse. He stopped, keeping his foot on the brake and the truck in drive, near the mailbox at the top of a sloping hill. The distance made detail difficult to distinguish, but he could see a tall metal pole. On top of the pole there was a flag flapping in the harsh wind. He couldn't see the detail of the image with his eyes, but in his heart he knew that the flag depicted a white buffalo. As far as Mulder was concerned, it was a giant X marking the spot.

"Scully? Hey, Scully," Mulder said. He drove a little ways then stopped the car again, this time at the end of the driveway. The truck pointed down the winding dirt trail that was lined with what had probably been neatly kept shrubs and flowerbeds in the summertime, but were now wilted and dead with the changing season. 

Scully opened her eyes, fully awake after only a moment.

"What is it?" she asked, sitting straighter in the seat.

"We're here. This is it," he said, his voice sounded dream-like to his own ears.

With his index finger, Mulder pointed towards the house, and a small, serene smile spread across his lips. He took his foot off the brake and depressed the gas pedal. The truck began a slow descent towards the perfectly picturesque house. It was something from a movie or a "Leave it to Beaver" episode. Whatever the result of their arrival, Mulder knew William had been taken care of during the past eleven or so years. A tiny part of Mulder wondered whether it was cruel to show up on his son's doorstep the day before the likely end of the world and say "Daddy's home." But that small part of him was overwhelmed by a greater sense of urgency. Nothing was going to stand in his way. He'd dreamed of this moment for what had seemed like a lifetime.

Mulder stopped the truck just in front of the partially installed basketball hoop. He smiled, pleased that his son enjoyed the game that he loved so much. He imagined William spending hours alone practicing free throws and jump shots, just like he had as a boy, dreaming of his inevitable superstardom in the NBA.

"Mulder, are you sure we’re in the right place?" Scully turned in her seat, facing him, craning her head to get a better look at the house through the window on Mulder's side of the truck. She was pale. Mulder couldn't decide if she was more afraid of not finding William or of finding him. After all, she was the mother who had given him up for adoption. There was no way to know if William knew he had been adopted, or how he felt about it if he did.

"I'm sure, Scully. I've seen this house in my dreams,” he said. “Though, it would have helped if I'd seen that." Mulder pointed towards the front porch. A hand-painted sign made of wood flapped on a hinge, creaking slightly in the wind. It read "Welcome to the Van de Kamps."

"Van de Kamp.," Scully said, trying the name out, rolling it off her tongue softly. "William Van de Kamp."

"If they even kept his first name." Mulder exhaled, and turned towards Scully. "Are you ready for this?" 

"What about his… parents? What are we supposed to tell them?"

Mulder had never considered it. Ten years of searching for his son, and in his mind he never had to bother with the small detail of William's adoptive parents. He had wondered what they might be like. He'd thought about how they might be treating William. But when it came to this moment -- the moment he finally met his boy -- the parents ceased to exist.

"I have no idea. I guess we'll wing it." Mulder reached for the handle on the truck door, popped it open and stepped out. "Come on, Scully. Grab your bag."

Through the truck’s window he saw Scully take in a deep breath, then reach back to grab her medical bag that contained the vials of Mesabi Ferrum. Mulder walked up the steps to the front porch. Soon after, he heard Scully’s quick footsteps as she jogged to catch up. Ready or not, here they come.

The heavy front door was wide open. The wind had pinned it against the side of the house, so Mulder peered inside. The house was quiet, except for the faint whistle caused by an occasional gust of wind blowing in through the hallway. It reminded Mulder of a train making its way down a long tunnel, warning of possible danger. 

"Think they were expecting us?" Mulder asked, stepping over the threshold. 

"Mulder, you can't just walk in there. This is somebody's home," Scully said, putting her hand on his forearm.

"Scully, the door is wide open in the middle of a December rain storm and there's nobody in sight. I'm taking that as a sign there's trouble."

Scully smiled, surprising Mulder a little.

"What?" he asked.

"I just had deja vu. How many times have I had to remind you of the probable cause laws that you liked to pretend you never learned at Quantico?"

Mulder returned her smile, somehow calmed by the memory of their past life together. How they began. Even though it seemed like an eternity ago, there were times when a scent or a sound would bring those memories rushing back in a heartbeat and make him think nothing had changed. Those moments happened so rarely these days, and he wished he had more time now to savor this one. He moved his hand to Scully's shoulder, and gave it a comforting squeeze. He leaned down, placed a gentle kiss on her lips, and she closed her eyes briefly in response.

"Come on, Agent Scully,” he said. “We've got one last case to crack."

Mulder opened the door with one hand and took Scully's hand with the other, pulling her into the Van de Kamp’s home. Once they were inside, the wind whipped violently toward the house and the heavy storm door slammed shut, as if to tell them that one chapter of their lives had ended and another had just begun. 

Mulder only hoped it would be a long chapter.

^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 21, 2012

4:19 pm

John Doggett pulled with all of his body weight on the axe he had buried in the chest of what could no longer reasonably be called a man. If he hurried and dislodged it, Doggett might have one more good swing before the Super Soldier sliced his head off with his bare hand. Doggett was somewhat amazed that it hadn't already tried. The thing just stood there, staring down at the thick metal wedge that was lodged in its body. 

It was disconcerting to Doggett how it -- this Super Soldier, if that’s what it was -- could be so calm while another person tried to end its life. Doggett didn't dwell on the thought very long before he finally pulled the axe free, and lifted it above his head with both hands, gearing up for another blow. This time he planned on taking off the Super Soldier's head. If he was to have any chance at disabling it, and slowing it down, sending the head as far from the body as possible would be the best option. 

As Doggett began the down stroke, the Super Soldier altered his statue-like pose and lifted his left arm up towards the axe. When Doggett brought the weapon down, the Super Soldier grabbed the wooden handle, effectively stopping the axe’s progress in mid-air. With one violent yank, the Super Soldier pulled the axe out of Doggett's hands and threw it outside of the trailer where it landed on the rain-soaked dirt with a distant thud. 

Doggett gulped, preparing for what was next. His only thought was to keep his eyes open. He wanted to die facing his enemy with courage and dignity, in full control of his senses and wit. Joy continued to cry somewhere in the background, and Doggett vaguely registered the scent of Monica's fading perfume. He heard Gibson shouting something, but Doggett was not sure what. The myth was true; when faced with death time really does slow down. Each second feels like a lifetime and life’s small regrets and failures are amplified. 

However, time felt slower now than he ever imagined it would.

Doggett blinked and refocused on the Super Soldier. It had taken a step backward and raised its arms in a posture of surrender. A slight smile had appeared on its face, and its eyes softly pleaded with Doggett to accept its gesture of good will. Then, the Super Soldier spoke and said something Doggett would never have believed if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears.

"Please,” it said, sounding apologetic, “I'm not here to hurt you."

Doggett lowered his gaze to the man's chest. The axe wound he had just inflicted was already healing. The bleeding had stopped and Doggett could see the line of perforated skin repairing itself before his eyes. He didn't want to look, but he could not take his eyes away from the wound. In the past, Doggett had seen Super Soldiers shot and physically mutilated beyond human tolerance. They were always unstoppable. Either they kept coming at you despite their injuries or would start up again after a brief lull in their pursuit, as if the mutilation of their body was only a small annoyance preventing them from attaining their ultimate goal of destroying their target. Until now, Doggett had never actually seen the regeneration in action. He couldn't tell you the difference between a DNA strand and a protein code, but to see this kind of healing take place in a matter of seconds was a miracle, even if it was a genetically engineered one.

"The hell you're not! You're a Super Soldier, right?" Doggett shouted, "If you're not here to hurt anyone, then get the hell out." Doggett swung a stiff arm around and thrust his index finger toward the door in case the Super Soldier was unsure which way was out of the tiny trailer. 

"Please, let me explain," the Super Soldier said. He spoke evenly with no hint of fear or exasperation, or any other emotion. 

"Listen, whatever the hell you are, if you're not going to kill me, then get out. Don't explain, just leave." Doggett said, ignoring the absurdity of what he was saying. Doggett took a quick, giant step toward the Super Soldier, the anger building inside him as the last decade of stifled fear pushed its way up through his body. This man in front of him represented more failure than Doggett ever wanted to admit he was capable of. Before the X-Files, before Super Soldiers, his life had been fine. Lonely, but he'd had a bright career, was respected by his peers. He had a normal life. At the very least, his faith in all that was right with the world hadn't been shattered. 

Before Knowle Rohrer and the almighty Super Soldier conspiracy shook its finger at John Doggett, the world made sense. He intended to make sure this thing standing in front of him understood that. 

 

Doggett shoved his hands on the Super Soldier's chest, knocking the Super Soldier back a step. Not an overpowering shove, but he caught it off-guard a bit. Still, it just stood there watching, allowing Doggett to push him again. 

"John! What are you doing?" Doggett vaguely registered the sound of Monica's voice in the background. He'd forgotten she was there. She was telling him to stop, which made no sense. More than anyone, she should understand what he needed to do. If not for Super Soldiers maybe they'd still be friends. Maybe more. Doggett looped his arms around the Super Soldier, frantically trying to lift the man up, and carry him through the door. The thing felt like a sack of lead. 

"John, stop it." He heard two voices. Monica and Gibson both pleaded with him to let go, or something along those lines. Doggett was somewhat aware of being touched on the shoulder and in the next instant he was on the floor, sprawled out on Gibson's flea market rug flat on his ass. Gibson stood a few inches away, glaring down at him. His brow was knotted and his fists were balled up at his sides. 

"Listen to him," Gibson said, breathing hard. 

Doggett wasn't entirely sure, but it appeared he'd just been knocked on his ass by Gibson Praise. That fact alone made what Gibson had to say worthy of his attention. In all the time Doggett had known him, Gibson had hardly made it beyond a good shout. 

After another breath and a gulp, Gibson said, "He's telling the truth, John. Just listen."

"You've got to be kidding me." Doggett didn't think the situation could be any more absurd. Gibson, Monica and the Super Soldier stood on one side of the room while he was on another. 

Three against one with a line in the sand.

Now he knew the world was ending.

^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:22 pm

The house smelled of cinnamon and freshly dried laundry. To Scully it was the smell of San Diego or Baltimore or the dozens of other places the Scully family had lived during her childhood. It was the smell of home and family. Something she had once desperately wanted to replicate for herself but never would. The Van de Kamp's home was a western-styled farmhouse, but it was well kept and not cheaply maintained. The family was probably middle class. The furnishings and quality of the house suggested they lived comfortably, but not lavishly. 

As Scully passed near the doorway to the kitchen she peered inside and saw an immaculately cleaned countertop still with a Mr. Clean shine. Aside from one soup bowl and a spoon, the sink was empty of dishes and the table was missing any remnant of recent activity. There was no evidence the Van de Kamp’s, or anyone else, had been in the house anytime recently. Only silence and chilly air greeted them. Scully's heart sank in her chest when it occurred to her that perhaps the family was on vacation. The date was nearly Christmas and it was possible they had gone to visit family for the holiday. Maybe a trip to Grandma's. 

But if the family was gone, why would she smell the laundry? A load had been completed recently, and unless the family had hurried out the door after stuffing newly dried clothes into a suitcase, there was one other possibility about the family’s location. An image of stalled cars and their recently deceased, Plague-filled drivers, jumped up in Scully’s mind and she quickly pushed it aside. She was getting ahead of herself. 

"Hello?" Mulder called out. He didn't shout, but in the quiet room his voice consumed the space. "Is anybody home?"

"I don't think they're here, Mulder," she said, more to convince herself.

"Why was the door open?" Mulder said as he headed towards the stairway that lead upstairs, presumably to the bedrooms.

"I don't know," she said, feeling a sudden chill. She wrapped her free arm around her chest in an attempt to keep the cold away. “It just feels... empty.”

"If they're sick, they're probably upstairs," Mulder said. He said it plainly, in the same voice he used hundreds of times during case investigations. He was taking in evidence and making assumptions based on instinct, while Scully chose to go against her nature. She pushed away the too-likely scenario of finding the family sick from the virus and the fear that came with it. She forced herself to remain skeptical that this was William’s house. So far, all she knew for certain was that someone named Van de Kamp probably lived here. Anything beyond that would be guessing and she reminded herself not to make assumptions before all the facts were in. She would leave conjecture to Mulder.

"Mulder, we shouldn't go up there," she said as Mulder neared the top half of the flight of stairs.

Mulder whirled around on the steps. Scully stood a few steps below and he loomed over her. He furrowed his brow and his face turned a deep pink as obvious frustration evaporated off of him. Scully couldn’t look into his eyes, and turned her head down toward the beautiful hardwood stairs instead, feeling like a child.

"Scully, we're here. It's now or never. You can do whatever you want to do, but I'm going up there." He said, curtly. Mulder turned back around and continued his ascent to the top. Scully sighed, breathed in deeply to regroup for whatever or whoever they would find and followed after him.

When they were nearly to the top of the landing Mulder stopped and turned around with his finger over his lips. "Do you hear that?" He asked, whispering.

Scully craned her ear toward the hallway, listening. After a moment she shook her head. "No. What?"

"Voices… coming from that room," Mulder said, nodding toward the room at the end of the hallway. He called out again and walked towards the sounds. "Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp?"

Once Mulder reached the door, he pushed it completely open and stepped inside. Scully remained behind him in the hallway, just on the other side of the doorway. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as she watched Mulder swivel his head, scanning whatever was in the room.

"Hey, Scully. Take a look at this." Mulder reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her inside the room. The first thing she saw was a large bed, indicating to her that this was probably the master bedroom. Lying on the bed were a man and a woman, both unconscious and covered with several layers of sheets and quilts, arms and legs stuck out from underneath the bedding making it look like the occupants were both hot and cold at once.

"Oh my God, Mulder," Scully said. She started towards the man and the woman, her rusty doctor instincts kicking in, but Mulder held onto her wrist, stopping her. She looked at her wrist then to Mulder. "Let go, Mulder."

"Wait a second. Look over there." He nodded toward the other side of the room, near the foot of the bed. She followed his gaze toward the object of his attention. In a wooden desk chair sat another man who *was* conscious and tied to the chair at the wrists and the feet. He stared at Mulder and Scully but didn’t move. He seemed absolutely petrified by the two of them. His mouth hung open, his eyes bulged out, and his chest rose rapidly as he tried to take in as much oxygen as his lungs would hold.

Scully started toward the man, the question of who he was perched on her lips and ready to leap forward, but Mulder's grasp held her back.

"And there," Mulder said, pointing downward, behind them, “on the floor.” Almost hidden behind the door was another man, legs and arms sprawled out. Mulder finally released his grip on Scully's wrist and she headed first to the man on the floor, who seemed to be in the worst condition. As she reached him, her eyes were drawn to his face. His mouth was wide open and his eyes looked up at her in a vacant stare, lifeless and unresponsive. Scully could see the red lines of petichial hemorrhaging drawn through the whites, usually indicating forced suffocation, but there was no sign of bruising around the throat. Scully bent down, with two fingers she felt for any sign of life along the carotid artery in the man's neck. His blackened skin felt cool to the touch, almost like metal. 

She had seen this type of reaction before. A long time ago.

"He's dead," said a voice from across the room. Scully twisted her body around to face the voice’s source. The man tied to the chair had apparently regained some composure.

"Who is he?" Mulder asked.

"He was my friend," the man in the chair said, solemnly. He lowered his head and swallowed. Scully stood up, less interested in the man in the chair, and more interested in the unconscious bodies on the bed. Hopefully they hadn't met the same fate as the dead man.

"Who are you? Is your name Van de Kamp? Is this your house?" Mulder asked.

The tied up man shook his head back and forth but didn't speak.

"Mulder, I think these are the Van de Kamps," Scully said. She was bent over the man lying on the bed. She looked closely at the man's face, and could see lesions that had become the tell-tale sign of the alien virus. She was more than a foot away from him, but Scully could feel heat radiating off of him. She looked to the other side of the bed to the woman, and saw the same marks on her face. The man breathed rapidly but was unconscious as sweat literally dripped off of him. The bed sheets were soaked through and a wet mark stretched inches in circumference around his body. The woman was also unconscious, but was barely breathing at all. Still carrying her medical bag, Scully walked around to the other side of bed to check on her.

"They're infected, Mulder."

"Are they alive?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure for how much longer. I need to administer the serum." Scully put the bag down on the bed near the woman and began rummaging through it, looking for one of the small vials of Mesabi Ferrum and a disposable syringe. 

"Do you think it will work?"

"I have no idea," she said absently, focused on her task.

Mulder was silent for a moment then asked, "Do you think it's a good idea to use up two doses? How much do we have left?"

Scully stopped searching her bag and stood up straight to look at Mulder. Her eyebrows knotted and she stared at him in disbelief, understanding the implication of his question.

"Mulder, I'm not going to let them die," she said.

"You just said you don't know if it will help them," he said, maintaining firm eye contact with her, locked in a staring contest.

"I don't, but I'm not going to stand by and do nothing." She lifted up the syringe and plunged it into the top of the vial, then sucked the liquid up into the hollow plastic tube. "Besides, if you're right, and this is *his* house, these--" she said, waiving her hand over the Van de Kamps, "--are William's parents." 

The challenge continued and Mulder finally blinked. Scully wasn’t sure if she had convinced him that injecting the Van de Kamp’s was the right thing to do or just convinced him that she wasn’t going to back down. Either way, she’d won that round. Mulder turned back toward the man in the chair while Scully brought the syringe down towards the woman, plunging the needle deep into her shoulder. Mrs. Van de Kamp made no sound as Scully pushed the liquid deep into the muscle. When all of the serum was gone, Scully picked up her bag, and walked back around to Mr. Van de Kamp intending to do the same to him.

"You know the boy called William?" The man tied in the chair asked. Scully only registered his words, not their meaning. Her focus was on helping the man in the bed.

"Who the hell are you?" Scully faintly heard Mulder demand. 

The man stuttered before finally spitting out that his name was Liam. 

Scully removed a new syringe from the sterile wrapper and pulled a fresh vial of the stuff from the bag. As she stuck the needle into Van de Kamp’s shoulder, she heard Mulder ask Liam what he was doing in the Van de Kamp's house tied up. In the back of her mind she tried to understand what had happened here. She had a good idea what had happened to the Van de Kamps, but could not for the life of her figure out how one man ended up dead while another was tied to a chair as the Van de Kamp's slept feverishly in their beds. 

"I asked who you are," Mulder said, his voice increasing a few decibels. 

When Scully finished injecting Mr. Van de Kamp, she walked back over to join Mulder in his interrogation of Liam. Mulder silently questioned her with his eyes about the status of man and woman in the bed. She shook her head slightly.

"We'll have to wait and see," she said to Mulder. Then she turned towards Liam. "Answer him. What are you doing here?" 

"I came here looking for Quetzalcoatl, The Great Unifier, the one who will bring about the dawning of the Fifth Age and end the suffering of the Fourth. He lives here."

"Quetzalcoatl?" Mulder asked. “The Mayan and Aztec god?”

"Yes. His return will unite us all and bring peace."

"Mulder, he's crazy," Scully said.

"Maybe,” he said, and turned to ask Liam, “What does Quetzalcoatl look like these days?" Scully crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her lips together tightly, waiting for an absurd response to an absurd question.

"He is William, William is he," Liam said with a smile on his face that made him look serene and completely bonkers at the same time. But whether he was crazy or not, he had just said her son’s name, and now had her complete attention.

"William who?" Scully asked, trying to control her shaky voice, like a person who is not sure she wants to hear the answer to the question, but knows the answer nevertheless. 

"William is the one you spoke of. He is very special," Liam said. Scully gasped. Liam's face twisted into a disconcerting smile. He seemed to be in his own world, dazed and clearly insane, but his words kicked Scully in the gut like a lead boot, and knocked the wind right out of her. She didn't know why she believed him, this most definitely mentally ill man, but hearing her son's name cross his lips suddenly made everything very immediate to her. Not until that very moment did she truly believe Mulder had led her to the place they'd sought for a decade, if not forever.

Suddenly the room seemed filled with grainy color and ordinary details jumped out at her. She glanced at the wall behind Liam. Hanging about five feet up was an eight-by-ten photograph bordered by a gold leafed, wooden frame. In the photo, three individuals posed for a professional family portrait. All were smiles in front of a standard blue-gray marbled background screen. The two adults seated in the picture were obviously the same two people Scully had just injected with serum and who were lying unconscious in their bed. Standing behind them, smiling brilliantly, was a boy of about ten years old. He had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. It could have been the power of suggestion at work, but she was sure she saw Mulder's smile on that face in the photograph smiling back at her, and Scully finally believed that she was standing in a bedroom in her son's house, with her son's adoptive parents on the eve of the end of the world. 

"Mulder..." Scully pointed toward the picture. Her eyes were transfixed on the image, and she was almost afraid she would burn a hole through the paper, but not afraid enough to look away. "That's him."

Mulder looked too. 

He walked over to stand next to Scully. Both of them hesitated to get too close to the image, as if getting closer would frighten the boy away. They were strangers to him, after all, and children were sometimes afraid of strangers. Mulder placed a hand on Scully's shoulder and looked down into the same eyes he saw in the picture on the wall. He drew a deep breath and squeezed her shoulder, clinging to her like she was a lifeboat. 

They were here. 

But William was not.

Mulder turned back to Liam. "Where is he? Why are you tied up? Did you hurt him?" They could technically have been called questions, but Mulder spit them out as commands, throwing words at Liam as if they were arrows and perched on top of Liam's head was an apple. Mulder didn't seem to care if his aim was off.

"Why would I hurt him?" Liam asked calmly.

"Where is he?" Mulder asked again, louder. Liam stared blankly at them both. He seemed utterly dismayed by Mulder's questioning, which only made Scully’s need to hear the answers more urgent.

"Answer him, dammit!" Scully said, pulling her eyes from her son's picture and stepping into Liam's space. She wanted to shake the answers out of him, but clasped her hands together, wringing them instead. 

Finally, Liam opened his mouth to speak. "He left," Liam said.

"He left? Where did he go?" Scully reached out. She decided she would shake the answers out of him after all. This man was lucky she no longer packed heat, at least not on her person. If she needed to, should would run down to the truck and bring back her Glock. Hell, she'd even bring back her FBI badge, which she still had somewhere in her belongings -- nobody made you turn in Bureau property when you had resigned your position by becoming a fugitive from justice. She'd do anything to get Liam to start talking and start talking now. Did he not understand that he was speaking about her son? 

She decided she would make him understand, but as her hands touched the fabric on his shirt, a loud gasp came from one of the people in the bed. Scully turned back, releasing Liam in the process. She quickly walked over to Mr. Van de Kamp’s side of the bed, and pulled back the covers slightly.

Scully was surprised to see that his eyes were open.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:26 pm

"Sir, try to stay still," Scully said. She tried to calm him down, but Mr. Van de Kamp continued to thrash restlessly on the bed, mumbling nearly soundlessly. He shook his head back and forth for about a minute, while he tried to focus on whatever was touching him. Then his movements stilled, but his breathing remained labored and quick. His eyes ceased darting back and forth finally settling on Scully. She could see his mind at work, trying to process who she was and whether or not she was dangerous. 

"Who -- who are you?" Van de Kamp asked, his voice scratchy from excessive coughing and disuse. He struggled to sit up in the bed.

"I'm here to help you, sir. Don't try to sit up," Scully said, bringing her hand to his forehead.

He ignored her, and sat up anyway. He still felt hot to the touch. When he reached out to push Scully's hand away, a bead of moisture fell from his glazed skin onto the back of her dry hand. 

"What are you doing here? Who are you?" Van de Kamp asked, fearfully but firmly. 

She took a step back, not wanting to agitate him any more than the situation already had. A moment ago, he was unconscious, probably dying from the alien virus, and now he was sitting up speaking to her. She couldn't prove that her serum had anything to do with this, but if it hadn't it was a hell of a coincidence. If the woman sat up too, it would be proof enough for Scully at this point, scientific method be damned. 

"My name is Dana Scully. I’m -- I'm a medical doctor," Scully said, looking to Mulder quickly, unsure exactly what to say. Mulder raised his shoulders and nodded, letting her know he didn’t have any better idea than her and he trusted whatever choice she made.

"You're a doctor? Can you help my wife?" When he turned to look at his wife, Van de Kamp noticed Mulder for the first time, standing near the foot of the bed. "Is he a doctor, too?"

"No, he's not. But he's here to help. We both are," Scully said.

"You're not paramedics? From 9-1-1? I couldn’t get through, but --"

"No, we're not. Mulder, can you get Mr. Van de Kamp some water? He needs to replenish his fluids." 

"Sure," Mulder said. He glanced down briefly at Liam who was observing the other adults in silence and walked towards the door, out of the room.

"How do you know my name?" Van de Kamp asked.

"The sign on your front porch. Mr. Van de Kamp, can you tell me what happened here?" Scully said.

"My wife, is she okay?" he asked, ignoring her.

"I'm not sure. I gave her some medicine. The same medicine I gave you. I'm hoping it will work just as well," Scully said.

"We need to take her to a hospital." Van de Kamp turned toward his wife and leaned over her. His hand went to the hot skin of her face, trying to soothe her in her sleep. He spoke tenderly, his voice filled with love and raw emotion. Scully only hoped that Mrs. Van de Kamp would fair just as well as he had. "Susan, honey. Can you hear me?" When Susan didn't respond, he turned back toward Scully, seeking answers she wished she could provide for him. 

"What's wrong with us? I thought we had the flu, but -" He reached up to touch his face, indicating he knew the same burns on Susan pock-marked him as well, "-this. I've never known the flu to do this. I asked my son to call 9-1-1, but it was disconnected." Van de Kamp looked at his hands, seemingly caught between confusion and fear, and then he looked up, remembering. "Oh! William. Where is Will?"

Scully swallowed and lowered her eyes. "Is that your son? His name is William?"

"Yes, Will. Is he here? Where did he go?" Van de Kamp looked around the room, suddenly panicked. 

"He left," Liam said, still in his eerily calm manner. Van de Kamp sat up straighter and peered over the foot of his bed, glaring at the source of the voice, struggling to stay upright. 

"You--what did you do with my son?"

"He left when you lost consciousness. He didn't say where he was going," Liam said, looking at Van de Kamp with a slightly vacant look in his eyes.

"You did that, sir? Mr. Van de Kamp?" Scully asked, pointing at the bound Liam.

"Did what?" Mulder asked as he returned to the room carrying a large pitcher of water and some blue-tinted plastic cups. He handed Scully one of the cups and filled it half full of water.

"Did you tie that man up? Do you know who he is?" Scully handed the glass of water to Van de Kamp and helped him drink it. He was dehydrated, and he gulped the water uncontrollably. "Easy, sir. Take your time."

After he'd downed the liquid, he held his glass out for a refill.

"Rob. My name is Rob," he said between a sip of water. "All I know, is that man wanted to take my son to find God, so I tied him up and then I passed out. Where is Will? Is he in his bedroom? I have to find him and we need to take Susan to the hospital. I’ve never seen her this sick before." Rob pushed himself up and lifted his legs to the edge of the bed. When his feet touched the floor he paused for a moment in exhaustion, finally stood up. Scully took a step backward. She reached out to steady him as he swayed on his feet, trying to orient himself. 

"Mr. Van de Kamp, you really shouldn't stand up--"

A loud BOOM quickly followed by a brilliant flash of light originating somewhere outside the house interrupted Scully's lecture. It was late afternoon, and the winter sunset quickly approached from the east. In the twilight, the flash was more intense than any lightning Scully had witnessed before. Deep within the thick layer of gray cloud-cover, what sounded like a freight train rumbled along its imaginary track through the heavens, blaring its horn to clear the way. The sound penetrated through Scully's eardrum, through her fillings, vibrating her entire body before lodging firmly in her gut. The wind blew hard, and Scully had a ridiculous image of herself dressed as Dorothy running around the room trying to find Toto before the window shutter knocked her on the head sending her to Munchkinland. She almost laughed out loud.

And then the house began to shake.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Near Sedona, Arizona

December 21, 2012

4:21 pm

Once, in grade school, after a playground squabble over some very important item that he could no longer remember, John Doggett sat in the same position in which he sat now on Gibson Praise's worn out linoleum floor; flat on his ass, mouth gaping open, hands behind him, knees bent and staring dumbfounded at the force that had knocked him over. 

In the third grade it had been Trygvee Ness, a boy who had decided at an early age that his goal in life was to set and then break his own personal record of how many kids he could sucker punch each week before getting sent to the principal's office. It's not easy being named Trygvee. 

In 2012, on what Monica had dubbed Colonization Eve, that force was a short, stocky, usually mild-mannered young man named Gibson Praise. 

"Gibson, what the hell?" Doggett finally spit out the words that had been lodged in his throat ever since he'd hit the floor.

Gibson stood over him, still looking angry, like a cornered rattlesnake. His shoulders had relaxed marginally, but Gibson still looked ready to strike again if provoked. Gibson placed his hands on his hips and Doggett suddenly felt like he was back in grade school, caught by the principal for fighting and humiliated after getting beat up by Trygvee Ness in front of his classmates. At least Trygvee had been twice Doggett's size. Gibson had been a short kid who had grown up to be a short man. He certainly was not a former Marine, former NYPD cop and former FBI agent. 

"You weren't listening, John. He's not here to hurt us," Gibson said, teeth clenched.

Doggett shook his head, and looked at the space on the floor between his sprawled legs. He splayed his fingers and held them open in front of himself, palms up, questioning. None of this ever made any sense, and he was tired of trying to make sense of it. 

"Okay. I surrender," he said raising his hands in the air, turning his palms to face out. "If you all want to die, who am I to stop you? If what everyone says is truly happening, it's almost over anyway." Doggett pulled himself up off of the floor and his joints creaked loudly in his own eardrums. The adrenaline rush was fading and he felt the first shot of pain thudding through his shoulder. 

Doggett glanced over at Joy. The girl who had been frantic during his attempt to kill the Super Soldier was now eerily quiet. Her face was flushed and tear soaked, but she gave no hint of distress or fear. Instead she looked curious. She watched the Super Soldier intently in the same way Gibson had watched her when she and Monica had first arrived the day before. She looked like she was watching television, or perhaps listening to a radio.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone. I came to help you," the Super Soldier said.

"How can you help us? Who are you?" Monica asked. She had insinuated herself between Joy and the Super Soldier. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she stood with her shoulders squared in front of Joy like a mother bear on her hind legs protecting her cub. "How did you find us?"

"I heard them," the Super Soldier said. He nodded towards Gibson and Joy. "I've been looking for him for a long time, but only in the last day or so--"

"You heard them? You mean, you heard their thoughts?" Monica said.

The Super Soldier nodded. He was a young man. He reminded Doggett of Billy Miles--soft-spoken, calm, the beginnings of a receding hairline and something not quite human looking back through another man's eyes. "Yes, I can hear their thoughts. And they can hear mine."

"He's been trying to find me for months. But only in the last day was he able to pinpoint me exactly," Gibson said. He'd turned his head toward the Super Soldier, cocking it slightly to the side, scrunching his left brow, scrutinizing.

"Why in the last day?" Monica asked. She looked down at Joy, who was half hiding behind her and half looking at the Super Soldier. Doggett felt like he had joined a conversation already in progress. Monica seemed completely up to speed on the situation, and as usual, he was clueless. "It's Joy, isn't it? You're getting a stronger signal."

"I didn't know she was here, but I'm glad she is." The man smiled, and took a step towards the girl. Joy retreated even further behind Monica, though she poked her head around, still curious, but cautious.

"No, stay back," Monica said, bringing her hand up. His smile melted away, but he continued to look at Joy. "Who are you?"

"My name is Aiden. I came because it will not be safe here much longer. I want you to come with me. So I can protect you."

Doggett laughed, a breathy huff of air escaping as he spoke. "Right. You are a Super Soldier, aren't you, and you want to be our bodyguard? Unbelievable." Doggett said, brushing imaginary dirt from his pants, a habit from the sandlot as a kid. 

"I'm not a Super Soldier, at least not in the way you think."

"What other way is there? You're a killing machine created by the military," Doggett said.

"No, I wasn't."

"I just buried an axe to the hilt into your chest. I saw the hole heal in front of my eyes. Are you trying to tell me you're just an ordinary man? I've heard a lot of stories in my life, but that one just about takes the cake. Did you hear him, Monica? He's just regular guy," Doggett said.

"That's not what he said, John," Gibson said.

"Then what *is* he?"

"He's an alien," Monica said. Sometimes Doggett wondered if she was telepathic, too. Or crazy, though he wasn't sure if there was a difference.

"Not exactly. Once I was human. Then I was taken, and now I am something else."

"Oh," Doggett said, looking up to the ceiling, nodding and slapping his hands on his thighs. "That makes perfect sense."

As if on cue, the trailer started shaking.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Washington, D.C.

December 21, 2012

6:39 pm

Tom Davis jogged down the stainless steel hallway, past the nursery and toward the section known as the Dormitory. He was still about fifty yards from the door, but already he could hear their screams hurling past him, sliding over the sterile, cold metal that coated the corridor like a latex glove. If someone had asked him to guess, he would have said that at least fifty people were responsible for the terrible noise; but he knew better.

Tom reached the magnetically sealed, passcode-protected door that separated him from The Twelve. Or rather, The Eleven. He pressed his thumb to the scanner, and a series of numbers blinked over ten squares randomly before stopping. Tom punched in his code and the door let out a breath as the magnetic seal let go of its grip. He pushed the door open and walked inside the Dormitory.

White walls with stainless steel accents glared at him, winking at him under the omnipresent fluorescent lighting of the main lobby. It was the home of twelve children, but Tom had vague recollections of trips to the dentist's office when he was still human that were more jovial. At least at the dentist’s office there had been a giant plastic tooth with lips and eyes sitting in the lobby. That was one of the images he seemed to recall most vividly. His mind was mostly Swiss cheese when it came to his former life, but for some inconceivable reason he could not forget that laughing tooth.

Once past the lobby, a wide corridor lead to the series of rooms that made up the primary quarters and living area for the children. The girls shared one bedroom and the boys another, and between them there was a common area where the children usually could be found during their rare free periods. 

That's where they were now.

Inside the living area, the noise was less precise, less horrifically vague then it had been in the hallway. Instead of random, enhanced disembodied voices, Tom could hear the calls of each specific child. 

For the past fifteen minutes, ever since the start of Phase II, the children had been in a state of panic. Most of them were huddled near each other on the white, functional furniture. Orderlies had surrounded them, and when one would approach the group, the children would press together into a tighter circle, comforting and protecting each other. The only audible sounds were wordless shrieks, but Tom knew they spoke to each other just the same. He could not understand what they were saying. They were too adept at controlling their minds, especially when together. He only heard random whispers, more like the white noise sound of machinery than voices of children.

As Tom approached them, he was surprised that not even one child paid any attention to his arrival. Usually, it was nearly impossible to sneak up on them. Even through the tightly closed-off living space, they heard his thoughts. Sometimes, it seemed to Tom, they heard his thoughts before he even thought them. He wouldn't have been surprised if that was the truth. Not much surprised him when it came to these kids.

"It's okay," Tom said, waving the orderlies away from the Twelve. "I'm here now. You all can leave."

The orderlies, who were dressed in the requisite white clothing straight out of an episode of The Twilight Zone, reluctantly backed away, several of them mumbling colorful epithets directed at him. Tom knew he was not well respected among the Level D Hybrids. For that matter, he wasn't well respected among the Level B's either, his own peer group. Whether or not anybody liked him at all, it didn't change the fact that he was in charge of the entire Alien Human Hybrid program, which meant his first priority was to The Twelve. 

Or, the Eleven.

When the last of the men had left the room, the children slowly calmed down. Tom had never directly mistreated them, and though they knew he was the one responsible for the tests, he sensed they never felt uneasy when it was just he alone in their presence. 

"It's okay now. Don't be afraid. Nothing will happen to you."

The children stood in front of him, staring for what felt to Tom like several minutes longer than the normal standard for labeling it an uncomfortable silence. More than that, it felt to him like the children were scanning him, the way an MRI machine scans the brain. They were trying to peel away the layers of his mind to determine his motives and truthfulness. Before Tom’s discomfort could overwhelm him, he inhaled a deep breath in preparation to speak, intending to break their concentration. Before he got a word out, one of the children stepped forward. 

He was tall for an eleven year old boy and his dark hair was cut into a military style buzz. He was officially known as "A3," but Tom knew he had been born Christian Drews. It was improper to call the children by their former names. His superiors would reprimand him for it if they knew he regularly did so. It would be too personal. For all intents and purposes, the children were laboratory animals now. Who they had been before was as irrelevant as who Tom Davis himself had once been.

Christian's mother had been "taken" during the later stages of The Project, and his father, (at least according to Christian's birth certificate), had been a government employee. Both of Christian's parents had been tragically killed in a traffic accident two years ago leaving the nine year old in the custody of the state. 

That was the official version of the story.

"There are so many," Christian said, his voice steady. His tone had a strangely innocent quality to it, yet at the same time he spoke with grace and the surety one would only expect from a person of great age and wisdom gained from experience in the ways of the world. It seemed contradictory to Tom, yet perfectly natural. After all, there was very little that was completely natural about any of the children.

"You all should relax. Nothing will happen to you," Tom said. That had sounded good. Even he was starting to believe the words that came out of his own mouth. Apparently the old adage was true: If you say it long enough, you'll start to believe it.

"They're dying," Christian said.

"But you're safe," Tom said. He looked around to all of the children. "You are all safe."

"We know. We are very special," Christian said, looking down as he recited the party line without emotion. Whenever there were tests, whenever the children questioned why, the only answer they ever got was "you're very special to us." It was true. One of the rare truths they were told on a regular basis, not that they were routinely lied to either. They were usually not told much of anything. 

"Yes, that's right. You are," Tom said, needing to look away from the boy’s eyes.

"Why aren't the others special?"

"The others?"

"Them. The others. Up there." Christian jerked his head upward, indicating whatever was above the surface of the bunker they were hidden away inside.

Understanding dawned on Tom, and he knew Christian meant the rest of humanity. It caught him off-guard and he stuttered slightly though his response. "Everybody can't be special. Then everyone would be ordinary."

"They're dying," Christian said again, almost robot-like. 

"It will be over soon. Try not to think about it." It was no use denying what was happening. The children could hear it all around them, even if he could not. Tom was a Level B Hybrid, advanced compared to men, but the word inferior was a gross understatement when he compared himself to the Level A's. Their differences were subtle to an unsophisticated observer. He was Salieri to their Mozart. Twelve Mozarts. Tom and his breed were a practice run before the real show. Level B’s and all who came before were the dress rehearsal. The Level A’s were opening night, the real deal.

"How long does special last?"

Tom opened his mouth to answer that special lasts forever, but in his mind he understood the true meaning of the question. He didn't have to be a mind reader to understand it. Does special mean forever, or does it mean as long as the children are useful to them? 

When Tom finally decided what to tell the boy, he looked up to find that Christian had moved away and had seated himself on the stark white sofa nearby. Christian’s hands were neatly folded in his lap and he looked away toward the cold white wall of the dormitory corridor. 

The boy had already gotten his answer.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:14 pm

William was soaked. 

The long sleeved t-shirt he wore clung to his body like a wetsuit. The cloth felt rubbery and sticky, and it was starting to itch. The road had become a muddy, pot-hole ridden obstacle, and with each step he took, dirt splattered up onto him and his clothing, coating him in a gooey, gritty slime. He wanted to tear the shirt off, but he'd have to stop and there wasn't time. The air was probably forty degrees Fahrenheit, but his body radiated heat. For all he knew, he was wet from his own sweat just as much as from the rain. It didn't matter either way.

In the isolated countryside, with few people within range, and no inclination to listen to those who were, William had only one thought in his mind. And it was his alone.

Find a doctor. 

The thought echoed inside his head. 

It was exactly three miles from his house to Doctor Levin's house. He'd ridden his bike there dozens of times last summer to play with the doctor's son, Eric. William and Eric were in the same class, and both loved baseball. Eric caught and William pitched. They'd spend hours in the field behind the Levin's house just playing catch or hitting grounders to each other. Occasionally, they'd get a group of local boys together and play a real pickup game. There'd been more than one occasion when Eric's dad was summoned to patch up a scrape or ice down a sore shoulder. If anyone could help his parents, William knew it would be Doc Levin. 

He only wished he'd remembered to take his bike this time. William had been so focused on finding the doctor, that he'd gotten a mile and a half down the road before he realized he was running. By then, it was too late. He was halfway to the Levin's and there wasn't time to turn back. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could stop his legs if he wanted to.

He reached the bottom of the steps to the Levin's house; a large Victorian-style structure with painted dormers and decorative trim, atypical from the usual farmhouses that dotted this part of rural Wyoming. 

The main entrance to the house was at the top of the steps that lead up about ten feet to the wooden wrap-around porch. Around the side of the house on the ground level, the doctor maintained a small private practice. Once, Eric had told William that his dad had the office as more of a hobby. He used it mostly to fill up the time when he wasn't on the lecture circuit. Doc Levin's real job, as Eric liked to put it, was flying around the country showing other doctors how to cut up people and getting paid a lot of money. Doc Levin was a heart surgeon and evidently was in such high demand that he spent more nights away from the family than with them. Though, if a conversation William had overheard his parents having about the Levin's was true, the doctor's work wasn't the only reason he was away so frequently. 

William hoped that Doc Levin had decided to spend Christmas with his family this year. 

William followed the stone walkway to the side of the house, and as he approached the door to Doctor Levin's office, he stopped to listen. He couldn't hear a thing. Being the wife of an important, rich doctor, Mrs. Levin was usually at home, and since school was out for Christmas break, William was reasonably sure that Eric would be home as well. 

William turned around, looked back toward the driveway. The Levin's had three cars, which were rarely parked in the garage. William could see Mrs. Levin's silver Lexus SUV and Mr. Levin's emerald green Jaguar sitting in front of the house in their usual spots. Nearly out of site, partially blocked by the house was the third car, the blue Nissan pickup truck that Mr. Levin used most frequently. 

They had to be home.

But there was no sign anyone was nearby. No sign at all. No sounds, no thoughts. Nothing at all. It occurred to William that he hadn't picked up Mrs. Levin, yet. In the past, he'd been able to hear Eric's mother in his mind by the time he'd gotten to the drive-way. Often he'd catch her reading one of the trashy romance novels that his own mother pretended not to read. The words "heaving bosoms" usually made William's stomach turn when they came from his own mother's mind, but somehow when it was Eric's mom, he found it somewhat amusing. Once he'd told Eric about it just to see him squirm. You did that kind of thing to your best friend. 

But now, there was nothing. No Mrs. Levin, no Doctor Levin, and not even Eric. William peered in through the window to the doctor's office, scanning the room for any sign of life. The room looked empty, though not abandoned. Several drawers were open and medical supplies were littered about the room. William jiggled the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but when it wasn't he pushed the door open and walked inside. The office, usually kept tidy by Mrs. Levin, was in complete disarray. Medicine bottles were lying on their sides, most with their contents spilling out. Ribbons of gauze and surgical tape were scattered over the floor and cupboards and drawers were wide open, or completely removed altogether. 

William ran out of the office, back toward the front of the house. He took the front steps two at a time, taking in deep gulping breaths when he reached the top. The front door was slightly open and William didn't hesitate about walking through it without knocking. The foyer opened up into the living room, and once inside the smell hit him immediately. 

When he was five years old, William had caught his first fish. He'd carried the two-pound bass around on a stringer for days, not allowing his father to clean it, or even touch it. He was so proud that he'd caught it, he wanted to lead it around like it was a puppy on a leash. But inevitably, the fish began to rot and the smell that emanated from it was something that William had never forgotten. 

The same smell assaulted his nostrils in the Levin's living room.

"Eric? Doctor Levin?" He called, his voice sounding small to his ears. William walked further into the room. There were two full-length leather sofas, but they faced away from William, toward the large fireplace where embers flickered softly, sending almost no smoke up through the flu. “It’s Will… Will Van de Kamp. Is anybody home?" He called softly, hoping that the reason he got no answer was because nobody heard him. William hesitated, then walked into the living room around the sofas. 

Once around, he stopped.

Lying on one sofa was Mrs. Levin and across from her on the other sofa was Eric. Blackened, oozing burns covered the skin on their faces, possibly their entire bodies, though they were covered to the neck in soft, patchwork quilts. Eric looked like he was sleeping, but Mrs. Levin's eyes stared up at William, and her mouth hung open in eternal confusion. 

"Mrs. Levin?" William asked shakily. He'd seen a dead body once before. His great grandmother had died the previous year and he'd gone with his parents to her wake. But the Levins looked nothing like the waxy, almost plastic version of his great grandmother that he'd seen that day. Instead, Eric and Mrs. Levin reminded William of his fish. 

It was an image he didn't want to associate with a human being.

William turned around, closed his eyes, and silently pleaded for the image to stay behind him. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that there was a man sitting in a chair in the corner by the large picture window that faced into the front yard. Doctor Levin was slumped in an oversized, stuffed leather chair with legs sprawled out in front of him, arms draped and hanging limply over the arms of the chair. 

"Doctor Levin?" William inched closer, shuffling his sneakers along the hardwood. "You have to wake up, sir. My mom and dad are sick and I need your help." William wiped away a tear from his eye before it could slide down his cheek. He took in a deep breath to gather up his composure. This was not real. 

Doctor Levin's chest didn't rise or fall, and William saw that he had the same burn marks on his face as Eric and Mrs. Levin. 

The same burn marks as his parents.

As the memory of why he'd gone looking for the doctor hit him, William gave one last look toward his friend lying on the couch, and ran out of the house. 

William ran down the steps, nearly flying to the ground, and turned back toward the doctor's office. He threw the door open, rushed in and gathered up anything he could carry. He stuffed alcohol and gauze and as many different medicines as he could into his pants pockets and hurried back out the door. As he passed by Mrs. Levin's SUV, he felt the ground rumble. William looked up into the sky. In the distance, poking through the one endless gray cloud that covered the heavens, he saw a triangle-shaped object. It was wide, but not very deep from bottom to top. It was sleek and reminded William of a Stealth Fighter jet -- but this was no airplane. William knew it was a spaceship and he also knew he’d seen it, along with other types of spacecraft before, if not in reality then in his dreams. 

From the spaceship’s center, there came a bright blue light. The wind began to blow even harder around him, over him and something sounding like a foghorn wailed. It hurt his ears, and William covered them with his hands. The light from the ship grew brighter, seemingly bent by the heavy rainfall.

"No! Get out of here!" William shouted at the ship as if scolding a stray dog. "You're not real!"

After that all he could do was run.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER NINE

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:29 pm

"What's happening?" Rob Van de Kamp cried as he lost his balance and fell backward. On his way down, he desperately grabbed a corner of downy comforter in a vain attempt to steady himself. Instead he landed with a thud on the hardwood floor and sat there dazed, one hand grasping clumps of bedding, the other flat on the floor to break his fall. 

Outside, the earth rumbled, vibrating both the Van de Kamp's house and the fillings in Mulder's teeth. The wailing fog horn sound had only lasted a few seconds, but the ground continued to tremor in its place. The noise of objects -- furniture, dishes, even appliances -- shifting within the house filled the room along with the panicked voices of Rob and Liam.

Scully stood with her body half pressed up against the glass of the bedroom window and with one arm stuck out behind her, about twenty seconds too late to catch Rob on his way down to the floor. She seemed unaware she had missed him. Her left hand shielded the glare from a bluish light, which poured into the room, allowing her to see out into the ever-dimming twilight. 

"I see it, Mulder. There it is!" Scully said, her voice higher pitched than it was normally, filled with wonder, almost childlike awe. It reminded Mulder of when he had first met her and she had been a green agent and a thorn in his side, until he had let himself know her. Though she no longer proclaimed to be a skeptic, at least when it came to the existence of extraterrestrials, Mulder knew that Scully hadn't quite believed this day would come. Not until she had looked outside the Van de Kamp's window to see the alien craft for herself. She had seen alien ships before, but Mulder suspected this was somehow different for her. This was the beginning of the end and in spite of the terror imposed by witnessing the days events, seeing the space ship was also awe-inspiring. 

But just as Scully's reaction was predictable to him, Mulder's own desires came to him as a complete surprise. 

The inertia of most of Mulder's adult life had been thrusting him toward this moment. Now that he was here, at what could be considered the paramount moment of mankind's existence, he found that he had no wish at all to look out to see the object hovering in the sky. He told himself that he had seen these craft before, had even been aboard one. The mystery was gone, or at least it was not raw and new. But that wasn't the whole reason. Mulder had lost his sense of wonderment long ago and now he only felt like puking his guts out whenever he thought of Little Gray Men. The new car smell was gone and Mulder would be the first to say 'good riddance.'

He cleared his throat, and tried to hide his anxiety. "Is it a big round disc or a little triangle shaped one?" Mulder asked, calmly. He hoped he sounded calm. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and fought off a wave of nausea. He wasn't even sure why he asked the question. There was some significance to the ship’s shape, but he didn't know what it was. Some faded memory poked at him deep inside his brain, strained to come out, but instead lodged itself, creating a clot. 

"Not sure. It's still too far away," Scully said, her face still pressed against the window's glass. “I think it's a little triangle-shaped one though.”

Somehow, Mulder felt a little better about that. He had been aboard one of the bigger disc-shaped craft. Maybe that's all it was, a Pavlovian fear response to the torture he had endured while imprisoned on an alien ship. As much as he wanted to believe that, he knew it was just a comfortable lie.

"Good," he muttered softly.

"Why does it matter?" Scully asked. She had turned around and was looking at him with an expressionless face, waiting for an answer. 

After a moment, he gave her the most honest answer he could muster. "I'm not sure. I just know it is."

Scully squinted at him, and then turned back to the window. He was being truthful, and he could only guess that had come across on his face. He had never spoken in great detail with her about his own abduction, though she had often tried to pry it out of him. Mostly, he stayed quiet because he couldn’t remember the details. His experience was mostly ethereal, based on feeling and random images. But now and then something specific would pop into his mind, a partial memory without context, but which his instincts told him was not pleasant.

The shaking died down to a barely noticeable shudder. Mulder turned towards Liam, who sat frozen in his chair as if he had been turned to stone. Rob was still on the floor, trying to use the sheets as a rope to pull himself upright. He called his wife's name over and over again, his fear likely amplified by his inability to see her. 

Mulder stepped over to help him, and Rob jolted when Mulder touched his shoulders. "It's okay. Let me help you," Mulder said, raising his hands to let Rob know he didn’t want to hurt him. Waiting a moment, Mulder stuck his right hand out to Rob with his palm up.

Rob hesitated, returned Mulder’s gesture, grabbing his hand firmly and letting Mulder pull him to his feet. Once Mulder was satisfied Rob wouldn't fall off the bed, he stepped away to prove he wasn't a threat.

"What is happening?" Rob asked again.

Mulder opened his mouth to answer but found that he had no idea how to begin. How do you tell a man who only a day before had been living a normal happy life with his family that everything he knew about the world was completely wrong? And oh by the way, your son is really my son. 

Then Liam saved him from deciding.

"It's the end of the world as you know it," Liam said gravely.

"And I feel fine," Mulder couldn't help muttering.

Scully shot Mulder a look and he gave a sideways smile back in response.

Rob began to make his way around the large bed grasping the comforter like it was a railing. As he passed, Rob glanced at Liam distastefully and continued on, brow sweating profusely with the effort.

Mulder stepped up to where Scully stood near the window. She had resumed her study of the craft hovering in the sky outside.

"Scully, I don't think we should stay here much longer. That thing may not be right over us, but it's a little too close for comfort if you ask me," Mulder said, his lips pressed to her ear, voice low. "And if that thing over there..." he jerked his head in the direction of the dead Super Soldier, "...is any indication, somebody knows William is here."

"Where should we go? Mr. Van de Kamp is still weak, and his wife is unconscious,” Scully said, matching Mulder’s tone. “Besides, we still don't know where William..."

"Doctor, help! Please, help me." Rob was nearly shrieking. He had finally made it over to Susan's side of the bed. He bent over her on the bed, lightly shaking her. "My wife! She's not breathing."

Scully rushed around to Susan's side of the bed, nearly knocking Rob over as she did it. Mulder watched as her fingers quickly went to Susan's throat, seeking the rhythmic tapping of Susan's pulse inside her carotid artery. 

"Mulder, get my bag!"

Mulder grabbed Scully's black medical bag and with four large steps he stood next to her holding the wide-open bag out. Scully took it and rummaged inside. She pulled out a stethoscope. With one hand, she put the listening end to her ears, and with the other hand she placed the business end of the instrument to Susan's chest, not even bothering to warm up the cold metal. 

Scully listened. 

After a moment, the intense expression she had on her face turned to a frown. She shook her head and looked up to Mulder, who nodded, understanding her silent message.

"Is she okay?" Rob asked, breaking the silence, not knowing their unspoken code. "Doctor? Is my wife all right?"

Scully moved back from the bed a step and removed the stethoscope from her ears. "Mr. Van de Kamp... I'm sorry."

"What? No, she just needs some medicine. I just need to take her to the hospital," Rob said. He pushed Scully out of the way and returned to his position by Susan's side. "Susan, honey? You need to wake up." He took Susan's hand and patted it lightly with his own.

The tenderness in Rob’s voice knotted Mulder’s throat. Against his will he imagined he was in Rob's place and it was Scully lying motionless on the bed. He had to look away. 

Rob shook his head back and forth, repeating "No, no, no" over and over again in a sort of half whisper half creaking voice, and looked up to Scully. "There's nothing you can do for her? It's just the flu. This is 2012. People don't die from the flu anymore!"

"They do from this flu," Mulder said.

"What are you talking about?" Rob yelled at them. Mulder never guessed he would use the word shrill to describe a man, but that was the only word that accurately expressed Rob Van de Kamp's voice at that moment. 

Rob threw the covers completely off of Susan's body, and shoved his hands underneath her. He began to lift his wife off of the bed. "I gotta get her to the hospital. Gotta find my car keys. She just needs help," he said to no one in particular.

"Mr. Van de Kamp, there's nothing anybody can do for her," Scully said. She put her hands on his shoulder to still him, both to comfort and keep him from collapsing on the floor from fatigue. Rob vainly struggled to lift Susan up. He barely had the strength to keep himself upright, but when Mulder joined Scully to help calm him down, Rob slid his hands away from Susan and shoved Mulder away with surprising force. Not enough to knock Mulder over, but the point was made clear.

"Leave us alone! My wife is going to be fine!"

Mulder and Scully didn't attempt to further soothe him. They were strangers to him and they both understood loss and grief. As Rob's denial turned into sobs, they silently decided the best they could do for the man was to give him his privacy, and allow him to face the reality that had just sucker punched him in the gut alone.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley, Arizona

December 22, 2012

11:37 am

"Get off the road! It's coming right at us!" John Doggett shouted. He'd screamed so much during the past few hours that he had almost screamed himself hoarse. Gibson was quietly hoping he would. Sooner, rather than later.

During the past ten years, John had filled a void left by Fox Mulder, who had replaced Gibson's father as the most significant man in Gibson's life. And though he loved John like a father or an older brother, John was one pathetic wail from getting his ass kicked by a short, awkward, but very special former lab rat. The headline would read, 'Former Marine, NYPD Cop, FBI Agent Bludgeoned to Death by Freak of Nature.' Of course, that would be if any newspaper reporters were alive to tell the story. Chances were slim.

In fairness to John, their unlikely band of five had been chased by a triangular shaped space ship through the Painted Desert of Arizona to their current location at the edge of the Kayenta Valley in the northeastern corner of the state. The Super Soldier, though it preferred the term Alien Replicant, now known to them as Aiden, was driving Monica's Honda, and the remaining four humans were crammed anywhere they could fit into the rest of the compact car's space.

"It's been coming at us for a hundred miles. Why doesn't it take us out?" Monica asked. John wasn't the only one getting on Gibson's nerves. Monica's question was fair, but the answer seemed blatantly obvious to Gibson. Wasn't she the one who had pointed out the effects of the geology to John? The craft seemed to bounce above them, reminding Gibson of the positive poles of two magnets repelling each other. The alien wanted to come closer, but it either wouldn’t, or couldn’t.

"Listen pal, I'm not entirely sure how you conned me into entering this vehicle with you, not to mention letting you drive, but if at all possible, could you not get us mere mortal humans killed? We don’t silly putty ourselves back together. Pull the hell over," John said, his voice escalating on each word.

"It's afraid," Gibson muttered. The others didn't seem to notice. 

Aiden continued driving. Gibson thought that to the rest of them, though perhaps not to Joy, it appeared that Aiden could not hear John and Monica’s pleadings. His concentration on driving appeared surgically precise. If he heard the others speaking to him, he gave no outward indication. But to Gibson, Aiden wore a well-tailored suit of false emotion. Inside, he was as filled with fear and self-doubt as the rest of them were. What's more, Gibson could hear the conflict within the man as he argued with whatever being was driving the alien craft that pursued them. The alien in the ship berated Aiden via the link between their minds. Gibson couldn't understand everything said. The alien communicated in English and partly in what could probably be considered an extraterrestrial language. It was difficult to keep up with the largely one-sided conversation, but it was mostly about honor, loyalty and the futility of fleeing and fighting for an inferior and pathetic race. 

At least that was the gist. 

The alien in the ship was playing the game of psychological operations. What Gibson hadn't been able to figure out was whether the alien was toying with Aiden, or simply buying time until it figured out a way to kill them all. 

*Don't worry, it's not going to break me.*

The voice came inside Gibson's head in the not quite comforting, yet not completely upsetting way that voices always did. It came like a radio volume suddenly going from comfortable cocktail party ambiance to Nirvana-level mosh-pit party; from background chatter to keynote speech.

*How long have you been listening to me?* Gibson asked back. 

*I'm always listening, Gibson. We're the same that way,* Aiden replied.

*I always thought I was alone. The only one.*

*None of us is alone,* Aiden said. When he spoke, Gibson caught Joy shift her head toward Aiden, and then turn abruptly down again. She played with a frayed end of Monica's jacket and looked out through the Honda's backseat window, but her eyes kept shifting semi-consciously back between Gibson and Aiden as they spoke to each other inside their heads. 

*Why does the alien chase--*

"Jesus Christ!" John yelled, interrupting Gibson's telepathic thought. "Step on it!"

They all looked back towards the ship. It was spinning, rolling towards them in the air. It looked like an obsidian arrowhead flying towards its mark, and the five of them were the prey it sought. Aiden did as John had commanded and pressed his foot against the accelerator nearly to the car's floor. They approached a cluster of naturally painted red rocks -- deeply infused with iron -- and as they came to one that arched over the desert floor like a gate, Aiden swerved off the road, and went through it. 

What at first seemed to be a controlled maneuver by the alien quickly became evident that it was anything but as the spaceship reached the arch itself. It zig-zagged behind the car, still spinning, and then accelerated past, crashing into the cliffs nearly a half a mile ahead of the car. A plume of smoke rose into the air where it had hit, black as oil and thick as honey. Aiden continued driving towards the site, his speed staying a constant, determined rate.

"You're not heading towards it!" John yelled. "Get back on the road."

"This is where we're going," Aiden finally said. "I told you we'll be safe there."

"But if that thing driving that ship is still alive..."

"It can't hurt us now," Aiden said calmly.

A few moments later, they arrived at the crash site. A fire still blazed as it consumed the ship's potent fuel. Aiden parked the car and got out, which Gibson sensed was much to the horror of John and Monica. Gibson soon followed to Monica's surprise, Joy jumped out of the car as well. Monica tried to call her back, but the girl paid no attention, so she followed the girl instead. John got out of the car, and hurried over to the rest of the group.

Eventually, they all stood near the crash, each surveying a separate part of the wreckage. Aiden peered into the cockpit and confirmed what he already knew. The alien's voice had been silenced in his head as the ship had hit the ground. Now he could see the alien's charred body as well. It wore a helmet with a sun visor that masked its face, but Gibson recognized it instantly as the same type of being he had once met inside a nuclear power plant many years before when he was just a boy. Its shape looked faintly human, but the head was oversized, looking enormous on the relatively small body.

"There. Now do you believe in aliens, John?" Gibson muttered without accusation. 

"What's this?" Monica asked. She was standing a ways apart from the group, looking down at the ground at a large pool of black liquid. As Gibson moved closer, he realized the pool was moving, not running the way liquid always does towards its lowest point, but with what seemed to be purpose. Awareness. It would start in one direction, and then change and go the other way. He saw Joy moving towards Monica to get a better look as realization of what the substance was struck him.

"Joy, don't go any closer!" Gibson said.

But he spoke too late, both aloud and in his mind.

Joy had reached the edge of the pool of Black Oil. The thick, viscous substance continued to move towards her, until the tips of her shoes were just two inches away from it. And then it stopped. It began to bubble and tremor as if being brewed within a sorcerer's caldron, infused with some evil magic and ready to explode. They all stood transfixed on the substance, both afraid and fascinated by it.

When the Black Oil finally looked as though it would shoot into the air like Old Faithful, unable to bear whatever forces were acting upon it, it suddenly stopped its turbulence. It looked like it had been inside a centrifuge, torn apart, no longer one whole part, but rather the individual ingredients that formed it. Water oozed away from the thicker black substance, which had dried into a peppery powder. The dry earth swallowed up the water, and the wind slowly blew the powder away.

"She killed it," Aiden said, his voice filled with more emotion than any of them had heard from him so far. He sounded like the stunned soldier left holding the broom of the recently melted Wicked Witch of the West in the "Wizard of Oz". He moved closer to Joy, but his gaze was still transfixed on the spot where the Black Oil had been.

"Killed what?" John asked.

"The virus."

"*That* was the virus? The virus that's killing everyone?" John asked, nodding downward.

"No, the virus that's causing the Plague is just a variation. That--" he said, pointing to the empty spot on the dirt, "--is the original virus. It's what started all of this."

"I don't understand. That was just a pool of sludge," John said, bending down to inspect closer.

"We have to get to the camp. I have to tell the others." Aiden turned around and headed back to the car. Though dazed, one by one the others followed him, nodding in agreement absently, leaving John to stand confused once again as the evidence continued to dissolve before him.

"So, we're leaving then?" He shouted back toward the car, his arms spread out wide to his sides.

Though Gibson's back was to him, he heard John mutter inside his head, "Feel free to keep me in the dark." 

All Gibson could think was just open your eyes.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 21, 2012

4:58 pm

Once they could no longer hear Rob sobbing, Scully and Mulder returned to the bedroom dragging a partially untied Liam with them. Rob sat beside his wife on the bed, his cheeks were tear-streaked but dry. He cradled Susan in his arms and gently rocked her back and forth.

As the three entered the room, Rob looked up at them. He was more composed now, but confusion covered his eyes like a veil.

"I don't understand any of this. What is happening?"

He sounded to Mulder like a different man. He was no longer the hysterical, delirious person they had met less than an hour earlier. Mulder imagined this was how Rob Van de Kamp normally was, quiet and composed. But Mulder also guessed Rob usually had a quality of cheerfulness that was likely gone forever. 

"Mr. Van de Kamp... I know you're very confused at the moment, and I wish we had more time right now to explain everything to you, but we don't. We all need to leave as soon as possible, but first we need to find your son. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?" Scully asked in the same cool manner Mulder had heard her use in countless interviews of suspects and witnesses. He always admired her gift of showing both empathy and firmness. 

Rob shook his head. "The neighbor's house maybe. There's not much out here. We're sort of isolated. Why do we need to leave?"

"Mulder... can you help Mr. Van de Kamp to the window?" 

Mulder took a step towards Rob, but Rob let go of Susan's hand and held up his own to Mulder. Mulder understood. Rob wanted to stand on his own two feet. These two strangers had already imposed enough on his dignity. "No, it's okay. What's outside the window?" Rob asked. He stood up but Mulder stayed close just in case Rob grew dizzy on his way.

"I think the window's the best place to begin our story," Scully said.

Once Rob made his way over to Scully standing at the window, she put her hands on his shoulder, making sure Rob was stable and then she moved aside.

"Look out there,” Scully said, tapping the window softly.

Rob gave her an apprehensive glance, not quite sure if she was putting him on or if she was serious, and then he pressed his face to the glass, shielding his eyes from the light of the room at the same time. 

"What am I supposed to see?"

"Look towards the horizon. Do you see it? It's the source of the blue light," Scully said.

"What? That airplane?" he asked, then turned his neck back to face her.

"Look closer," Scully said and Rob did.

"It looks like a stealth fighter... but it's just hovering," Rob said. He turned back to Scully, and shook his head. "I don't understand."

"That is no stealth fighter," Mulder said, not bothering to beat around the bush. "It's a spaceship."

Rob turned his whole body around to face squarely with Mulder. "A spaceship?" he asked, smirking.

"Yes, a spaceship," Mulder said with no expression no his face.

"You mean like Little Green Men?" Rob asked, grinning wildly. It was the look Mulder had seen from countless others in his life. The one that said you are a complete nutcase, but I don't want to come right out and say that.

"Listen, Rob. I wish we had time right now to spell it out for you, but we don't. It's a sixty-five year old story. Look closer. Does that thing look like any airplane you've ever seen before?” Mulder asked tiredly. “It's a spaceship. More are coming, so we need to get you and your son out of here."

In spite of himself, Rob did look closer. "Holy cow! Did you see that? It was hovering like a helicopter and then a second later, bam!” he said, clapping his hands together, “it was gone."

"Do you know of any airplane that can do that?" Mulder's voice was much louder now. He felt very impatient. It was times like these that he wished he carried a little narrative on his shirt explaining the last seventy or so years of human existence. Maybe a pop-up book.

"No, but--"

"We don't have time," Mulder said, throwing his hands down in a karate-chop style mimic of a baseball umpire calling "safe." We need to find William and leave. We'll tell you more on the way. Scully, help Rob pack. I'll throw a few of William's things in a bag."

"Listen, I'm not leaving this house. I don't think you two are dangerous, but I do think you're crazy, just like him,” Rob said thrusting a thumb towards Liam.

Mulder put his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw. He looked from Rob to Scully, hoping he saw a solution on her face. He was disappointed to see none. Scully shook her head slightly and sighed.

"I am going to find the keys to my car and take Susan to the hospital. I can't just leave her here," he said, his voice breaking as acceptance of her fate slapped him again. 

"What about your son?"

"I don't know. I'll call the police."

"There are no more police. There are no more hospitals, no more Wyoming, no more USA! Don't you get it? Everything--everything is over! Except for us," Mulder said. “But not for long, unless we get the hell out of here!”

Almost as soon as Mulder stopped speaking, the low rumble began again. At first, Mulder thought it was a repeat of the vibrations brought on by the earlier space ship, but he soon realized it was coming from within the bedroom itself, not outside. Mulder turned his head. The Super Soldier, still apparently dead, was in a state of convulsion. Mulder thought it looked like a giant catfish flopping around on the shore. And then he heard light footsteps approaching cautiously up the stairs. As the source of the footsteps got closer to the bedroom, the more the body on the floor floundered, until finally it stopped suddenly.

"Dad? I'm too late, aren't I?"

All at once, the four adults turned toward the doorway. Rob simply smiled, his worry lines fading slightly. Mulder watched as Liam dropped to his knees, mumbling something Mulder could not understand nor cared to. Beside him, Scully took in a sudden deep breath. The room grew graveyard quiet and for Mulder time stopped. 

Standing just inside the room was the boy who, according to Liam, was Quetzalcoatl, The Great Unifier, but Mulder knew him as the boy from his dreams. 

It seemed, William had returned.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TEN

Roswell, New Mexico

May 2002

The motel's vacancy sign flashed overhead, casting a faint sparkle of neon color through what had become a torrential downpour. The sign gave off a low electric hum reminding Scully vaguely of a bug zapper. Her uncle Ray had lived in rural Virginia and Scully could remember the sound that the bluish electricity-infused zapper made during summer visits to his house with her family when she was a young girl. It was a favorite pastime of the Scully children. In particular, her brothers Bill, Jr. and Charlie, ever fascinated, would watch the glowing lamp draw in unwitting insects for hours, long past dusk. The zapper would hum faintly until a bug got too close, then it would shoot out a spark of light like a miniature bolt of lightening, and the little insect corpse would fall to the ground.

Scully felt a little like one of those bugs now.

Mulder walked slightly ahead of her. He reached the door to their room, unlocked it and held it open for her. She walked underneath his arm into the room carrying a duffle bag full of all her worldly possessions. At least, they were all she had now.

"Roswell, Mulder?"

"Poetic, don't you think?"

She didn't answer him, but she gave him a tight-lipped smile. She could think of a few other descriptive words more appropriate than poetic. 

Scully threw her duffle on the queen-sized bed, where it landed with a mild bounce. Mulder still stood in the doorway, protected from the rain by a slight overhang above the sidewalk, which buffered him from the parking lot.

"Now what?" She asked, her back to him as she worried an unraveling thread on the duffle bag’s strap. She wasn't angry or accusatory, just tired. They'd been driving for hours in circles. Backtracking their route, taking sudden turns, making sure they had not been followed. They had barely spoken, and even though Mulder had driven the entire time, her heightened sense of anxiety had sapped most of her energy.

"Well, I guess we sleep here tonight and we can decide where to go in the morning," Mulder said.

"No, I mean, now what do we do? Not just tonight, not just tomorrow." She hitched her shoulders up and dropped them. "Now what?" She turned around to face him.

Mulder shook his head slightly. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I mean, Mulder, where do we go from here?" she asked. 

If someone had asked her what emotion she felt at that moment she wouldn't have been able to express it clearly. She felt void of everything, aside from exhaustion. The last several days had wiped her out, and it wasn't until the last few hours or so, during their drive away from the obliterated Anasazi ruins, that what she and Mulder had just done finally started to sink in. This was not just another Agents Mulder and Scully Adventure. They couldn’t write this one off on an expense report and suffer another reprimand in their personnel file.

They were both fugitives and they could never go back home.

She had broken Mulder out of a military prison -- which was not something she regretted for a moment. But she had also left her life behind. She didn't regret that either. She had loved the FBI once, but being an agent was just a job. It had given her financial stability, but money meant nothing without companionship. She’d had a beautiful apartment, something she had come to despise ever since giving William up for adoption. The place had amplified her loneliness to unbearable decibel levels. In every crook, around every corner she seemed to find a reminder of what she had lost; a stray bootie here, one of Mulder's sweatshirts there. She had even stayed alone in a hotel room for a couple of weeks just after she had signed the final paperwork officially handing their son off to a social worker and out of her life forever. 

The fact that she would probably never see her mother, or her brothers again was painful, dreadfully so, but worse than that was the two month old memory of holding William in her arms for the very last time. Only two months had passed and now instead of reuniting Mulder with his son, and living as one happy family, she was here with Mulder alone. In a rattrap motel in Roswell, New Mexico she had what she thought she had been dreaming of for the past year -- Mulder safely with her. 

But his reappearance left a bittersweet taste on her tongue and though her heart was overjoyed at having him back, it was also wracked with guilt, feeling as if it had become much smaller than it had been before. If she had held out for just two more months she would have Mulder and William and to hell with the rest of the world. That would be perfect happiness. Instead, she felt perfectly incomplete. That would have to be enough, but she knew it never could be.

The failure she felt coated her skin like a layer of silt and she felt the need to scrub it off.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, twisting back around toward her bag, away from Mulder. She unzipped the large black duffle, and dug through it searching for the lone pair of pajamas she'd brought with her. 

"Scully?" He asked, closing the motel door behind him. He stepped forward and stood just behind her. He didn't touch her, but she could feel his body heat invade her space. It felt good. Too good. It was a feeling she’d missed for the past year during his absence, but now felt she didn’t deserve.

"Mulder, I just need to get out of these clothes. Do you mind if I take the first one?"

Instead of an answer, she felt his hands smooth over her shoulders, drifting down her back, and around her waist. His fingers splayed open on her stomach, and then his mouth covered her neck, shocking her cool skin with a wet-warmth she wasn't sure she merited. She sucked in a breath, unable to exhale, unable to find words to tell him what she was feeling. 

A breathy "Mulder" was all she could manage, so she closed her eyes, and leaned back into his body. His hands roamed over her until they found the buttons on her chocolate brown blouse. His fingers deftly pushed the buttons through the holes until her shirt hung open, but he did not take it off.

"Mulder..." she tried again. They should talk. Their entire partnership had been built upon trust communicated through body language and silent words. It was amazing and beautiful and indescribable, but was also the reason it had taken them seven years to get to this point when most people with half their connection would have hit the sheets after the first year, or less. 

They definitely should talk.

She turned around in his arms to face him. Her logical mind wanted to push him away, to end this pre-established precedent of dodging the issues and allowing emotion to drive their actions. 

As he found her mouth with his own, she told her logical brain to stuff it.

What else could possibly go wrong anyway?

She brought her hands to his shoulders, kneaded the lean muscles there like a kitten. Grasp and release. Grasp and release. She pressed her fingertips into his skin and pulled him closer, opening her mouth to him more, touching her tongue against his. In the stark, cheap motel room all she could hear was the sound of their desperate breathing mixed with the distant sound of the rain outside. She let him guide her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and he gently lowered her to the mattress, pushing her backward and covering her with his body. 

She arched into him when he ran his hand over her bare stomach, not wanting to separate from him again. They had been separated for far too long, and if she could have, she would have crawled inside of him forever.

She wrapped her legs around him, content to surround him instead.

And that would have to be good enough, too.

^^^^^^^^^

"You've been working out," she said drowsily. Scully’s fingertips gently pressed over the pectoral muscles in his chest and the bulked up biceps in his arms, reacquainting herself with his body. 

"Didn't have a whole lot to keep me busy for the past year. You know, aside from jumping off of trains and breaking into secret government facilities buried inside of mountains," he said, forcing a soft chuckle.

Scully smiled mirthlessly against his chest, staring toward the window, where outside it still rained heavily.

They lay like that for several minutes; quiet, neither closing their eyes to sleep, neither looking at the other. Independently, both of their minds raced to organize what had happened in the past few days, and tried to figure out what to do next. What to say now?

"Mulder?"

"Um hmm?" He mumbled as he lazily drew random circular patterns over her bare arm.

She wanted to tell him about everything that had happened during the last year. He knew the cold facts, but she needed him to understand the reasons for them. She wanted to tell him what it had been like wondering if he was alive or dead. How experiencing failure after failure at protecting William had nearly killed her. That it was still killing her. She wanted to plead with him to forgive her for making a terrible decision alone that she had regretted from the moment she'd sent William away. The decision she'd made under the assumption that she would never see Mulder again. A decision that had gone horribly wrong. She had given up hope. She'd lost faith in herself, in him and in God. In humanity. 

In spite of that, here they were. They were together. They were alive and that had to count for something. She wanted to make him understand all of that. That she loved him, that the faith she thought she had lost had only been hidden from her. 

"Mulder?"

She wanted to tell him everything. So much had changed before they’d had time to adjust to their more intimate relationship. It had seemed they had gone from friends to lovers to parents to fugitives in the span of moments and they had barely discussed any of it. Now that they had the opportunity, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

"Tell me," he said softly.

She sighed, took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. She released the breath slowly and after several seconds re-opened her eyes. 

"I'm going to take a shower now," she said.

She pushed herself off of the bed, found her discarded pajamas and closed the bathroom door behind her.

They had all the time in the world to sort things out. All ten years left of it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 22, 2012

7:01 am

"No more driving," Rob said. He sounded like he had swallowed gravel. His eyelids opened only millimeters as he sat slumped in the middle back seat of Scully and Mulder's Tahoe. William was curled up beside his father, awake, but staring absently out the window at nothing in particular. Liam was zonked out on the far back seat bench, his bound hands resting on his stomach. He looked like he was praying. He probably was. 

"We have to keep moving," Mulder said.

"You don't even know where you're going, do you?" Rob asked. He sounded like he didn't care what the answer was.

The truth was Mulder had no clue where they were going. It had taken all of his energy just to convince Rob that they needed to leave the house--to leave behind everything the man knew, including his recently deceased wife’s body, and follow two complete strangers on some absolutely insane quest. Mulder had been prepared to punch the guy in the face, knock him out cold, and carry him to the truck if need be while he and Scully searched for William. He’d had enough of wasting time and trying to explain what was in plain sight.

Fortunately for his father, William returned just as Mulder had reached the end of his patience. He had stood in the doorway of his parents’ bedroom, looking like the boy Mulder had dreamed about for the past few years. He had Scully's eyes, and thankfully Mulder's hair, rather than his nose. William’s pants pockets had bulged at the sides, and his hands had clutched several sample packets of various drug tablets. His clothing was soaked, his shoes were covered in wet clumps of mud and clay. To Mulder, William seemed to be both younger and older than his almost twelve years. 

"She's dead, isn't she?" He had asked his father. Rob nodded tearfully and William dropped the sample packets, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shakily. The Super Soldier’s body seized mildly on the floor, but as William walked around the foot of his parent's bed towards his mother's side and away from the body, the tremors quieted, and the creature was still again.

Silence pervaded the room as the adults watched William take his mother's hand. No doubt Rob wondered how he could possibly explain everything that had recently happened to his son. Mulder wondered the same thing, though for different reasons.

Mulder glanced at Scully. She was watching William and Mulder thought he could see every possible emotion on her face. He knew that she wanted to run to him and wrap her arms tightly around him, yet at the same time Mulder thought she looked afraid to speak to him, much less touch him. Surreal was the only applicable word Mulder could conjure to describe what it was like to witness Scully watching her lost baby boy grieve over his adoptive mother's body. 

William bent down to kiss his mother's cheek. He didn’t cry, which struck Mulder as odd behavior for a nearly twelve year-old boy. When Mulder's own mother had committed suicide, the suddenness of it had sent him into a despair he hadn't known he was capable of. He had been a fully-grown adult... and Scully had been there to comfort him. Mulder thought William seemed resigned to his mother's fate, as though he had been aware it had happened before the rest of them had. Mulder knew that there was much going on inside his son's mind that even his adoptive father didn't know, but Mulder wasn't sure exactly what it was.

*His* son. 

That sounded like a lie rattling around inside his brain. William was no more Mulder's son than Mulder was the son of CGB Spender. Though William was essentially a stranger to him, a moment of acknowledgement had passed between the two of them when he had first arrived. William didn't know who Mulder or Scully was, yet he hadn't seemed surprised to see them there. He never even questioned who the two strangers in his parents’ bedroom were. If he knew anything about them, he kept it a secret. 

After allowing William and Rob some time alone with Susan, Mulder had helped Rob bury his wife in the back yard under an enormous oak tree. Mulder, Scully and Liam watched from a distance as the family said their goodbyes. Mulder wasn't entirely sure how Rob had suddenly come to accept what he and Scully had tried to show him through his bedroom window, but before he knew it William and Rob had each packed a bag, and were loading themselves into the truck, ready to follow Mulder and Scully wherever they decided to take them, which so far, was simply north. They'd be in Canada soon, but Mulder doubted they'd have trouble with the Border Police today, even if they were still fugitives from the Federal Government.

Now there was no more Federal Government, only the shadow government.

Since their trip had started, William hadn't said another word. *He's listening,* Mulder thought. It was an intuitive guess, not unlike those he used to have when he was an agent assigned to the X-Files, and he had no real explanation for it. Mulder wondered just how much William already knew about them, or about himself.

Rob had nearly passed out the moment they started driving, in spite of Liam spending most of the first two hours on the road muttering his nonsensical religious rhetoric. He emphatically wanted Mulder to drive them back to his camp, to meet the other members of his group, which Mulder suspected was more like a cult, and introduce them all to William. Mulder asked Liam in which direction his camp was located. Liam said south; Mulder drove north. After about an hour of whiney protest, Liam had finally and mercifully fallen asleep, and the trip had gone on in silence. 

Mulder watched Scully through the corner of his eye as she snuck periodic glances back toward William. Occasionally she would notice Mulder looking at her, and would quickly turn her gaze back to the road. Inevitably, she would look back over her shoulder again. The two had yet to say a single word to each other, and Mulder was both in awe of and alarmed by how Scully had dealt with the situation. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Most of his thoughts about William involved the three of them as an established family. Very rarely, if at all, did he imagine the actual moment they would reunite. Still, he thought there would be some display of emotion. Ten years after giving William up for adoption and her reunion with him had thus far been somewhat anticlimactic, if you didn't count the minor detail that the world was going through a massive alien invasion and human beings were on the verge of extermination. It didn’t help that Mulder and Scully had yet to tell their son or his father who they were, or who William was himself. 

Mulder glanced down at the gas tank gauge. Only an eighth of a tank remained. It was still early morning and dark. He could see the large red and white star of a Texaco station sitting at the end of the highway off ramp. It appeared the electric grid was still going strong either due to computer automation or the station simply had its own hydrogen power cell. It was probably not even connected to the main network. 

Out of habit, Mulder flipped on his turn signal, and gently turned toward the familiar symbol, which someday might be a historical footnote. The answer to a trivia question, remembered as the symbol for the Lone Star State of Texas in what was once called the United States of America, if any humans survived long enough to remember.

The group hadn't seen a living soul on the highway thus far the entire drive. Unlike the trip he and Scully had taken from Minnesota with only an occasional stalled car along the side of the road, now there were hundreds of cars littered along the shoulder and in the ditches. Many sat right in the middle of the interstate itself. Sometimes the vehicles would be empty, their drivers panic-stricken and delirious would have wandered off to die away from the road. Too often, the driver would still be slumped over the steering wheel. A single day had passed since Mulder and Scully had been stopped at a roadblock on the interstate in South Dakota, yet since that time, the world seemed to have disappeared. 

The Plague had arrived with such speed that there had been no mass panic, no roaming hoards of looters that they'd seen, and only relatively few bodies were left lying in public places. It felt to Mulder as if the time of the Rapture had arrived. As if God had suddenly, without warning, called the faithful up to heaven, and left the sinners and non-believers on earth to fight over the remains. It was more of a thought that Scully might have, but here he was.

Only the scattered and decaying bodies brought reality back to him. The Plague had not been brought by God, but it *had* been helped along by men.

Mulder pulled into an empty stall at the Texaco, and killed the engine. He sat in his seat for a moment, with his hands frozen on the steering wheel as a thought hit him hard. What if they were the last humans left alive on the planet? What then? 

Six billion people had been sent to oblivion, and he hadn't been able to stop it. 

Mulder exhaled deeply, and squeezed his eyes closed.

"It's not your fault," a shy voice from the back of the truck said. 

Mulder twisted around in his seat to find the voice's source. William was sitting up straight in the seat. His big blue eyes were calm and thoughtful. "Did you say something, William?" 

William shook his head, and lowered his lashes.

Mulder looked at William another moment, hoping he would change his mind and speak again. Say anything, but when he didn't, Mulder pulled the latch on the Tahoe's door, and slid outside.

The air was still chilly, but it had warmed up considerably since the previous day. The dampness had evaporated, and Mulder could no longer see his breath in front of him. He walked around to the side of the truck, popped the gas cap, flipped the switch to on and stuck the pump into the tank's hole. 

He pulled back the lever and got nothing. He gave the lever a few more quick squeezes. It was dead.

The others had begun slowly vacating the truck to stretch their legs, get the blood flowing. To nobody in particular, Mulder said, "There's no power."

"All the lights are on," Scully said.

"Must be on two separate generators," Mulder said. “I think we’ll have to siphon it.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 22, 2012

8:17 am

Mulder, Rob and a recently untied Liam managed to find some tools to open the deep wells that contained most of the fuel, and after a little difficulty finding a serviceable hose, they had filled the Tahoe’s tank to the brim. While the men were busy with the gas, Scully used the time to scavenge the station’s convenience store for anything still edible. The outside sign must have been the only thing attached to the power generator because everything inside the store was either spoiled or filled with so many preservatives that it would probably outlast all of them. She did her best to avoid items that would require a lot of effort to prepare and instead grabbed things like beef jerky, bottled water and peanut butter. Though, not even Scully could resist a glazed doughnut or two – or a dozen. They had to have *something* for breakfast.

Once her arms were full and not even another package of Ding Dongs would fit within them, Scully decided to head back to the truck and come back for another load. Behind her, a box of something fell off of a shelf, startling her in the quiet shop. She turned around suddenly and found William standing in the middle of the pasta isle studying her. She shook the frightened look off of her face and forced a smile.

“Hello, William. Do you want to help me?”

William only shrugged, but didn’t say no. Scully hesitated a moment, wondering if she should say more, wanting to say more. Instead, she walked past him leaving William to make up his own mind. 

Once outside, she unloaded the various cellophane wrapped packages, putting them on the floor of the truck without her usual consideration for neatness. Scully turned to go back inside for round two, and sighed inwardly when she didn’t see William behind her. She had been sure he would come. It had been a feeling, mother’s intuition. She furrowed her brow at the thought. She had not been a mother for more than a decade, and she hadn’t had much time for honing her intuitive skills when she had been a mother –- William’s mother.

A loud crash coming from inside the store brought her out of what had become her daily moment of self-flagellation. It sounded like an entire shelf full of canned goods had tipped over, spilling its contents onto the floor. 

Then there was a yell for help.

“William?” Scully called out. The balls of her feet dug into the ground like a runner in a starting block trying to gain leverage as she started for the main doors to the convenience store. She pushed off quickly, but after a few steps she stopped, spun back around to the truck, and opened the passenger door. She flipped open the glove compartment, and pulled out her semi-automatic handgun. Scully quickly checked the clip -- it was loaded -- and ran back toward William.

Instinct like adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her actions more than her brain. Her ancient training took over, and once again she became Special Agent Dana Scully. With both hands on her firearm, Scully used her left shoulder to push the door to the store open. As soon as she was inside, she saw a twenty-something year old man covered in lesions, skin peeling off in some areas on his arms and face, standing behind William. His clothes were dirty and torn, like he had not washed them in weeks, and his beard, much more than a few days growth, was shaggy and wild-looking. Scully noticed that on the back of his right hand, near the wrist, was a tattoo, though she couldn’t tell exactly what it depicted. Part of the skin on that hand was falling away, reminding Scully of a molting reptile, more specifically a snake, which seemed a perfect adjective to describe him.

The Snake Man had William in a headlock with the right arm, and he held a metallic object in his left hand. William was jabbing Snake Man in the stomach with his elbows, and generally putting up a good fight. Snake Man looked like his best days were behind him, but the reduction in oxygen was starting to show on William’s face. The rate of frequency and the force of his blows had slowed down. 

“Let him go!” Scully shouted, raising her hands, and training her Glock directly on the man, carefully aiming high to avoid William.

“No! No! Stay back!” Snake Man shouted back at her, simultaneously pulling William backward a step. “Can’t you hear it?”

“I want you to let him go, or I will kill you.” Scully said. For once, she did not worry about proper procedure or pretense. She had no intention of taking this man to jail. He would either let William go or he would die. Simple as that. “William, are you okay, sweetie?”

William nodded, but his eyelids drooped a bit. He tried to cough, but it came out sounding like he was gagging. Scully focused her attention back on Snake Man, who was still muttering something. “What did you say?” Scully asked, finally hearing what Snake Man had said.

“Can you hear them? They want him. He’s one of them. I have to stop him. Or it’s sayonara for us all,” Snake Man said, nearly cackling with crazy laughter.

Snake Man raised his left arm a little, and Scully heard a vaguely familiar sound, like the noise a tire makes when you check the pressure. Finally, Scully could clearly see the object in the man’s hand. It was silver, and at first glance looked like an ordinary pen, but this item was used for killing, not writing. The closest resemblance to anything ordinary was an ice pick... and Scully had seen it before.

“Scully, we’re all ready to--“ Scully heard Mulder say as he pushed open the door with Rob following closely behind him. She caught Mulder’s eyes as they quickly appraised the scene. “Stay back!” He shouted, placing a hand on Rob’s chest and pushing him back through the door to the walkway outside. 

The next few seconds played like a slow-motion action sequence in some cheesy movie from the 1970’s. Snake Man seized the opportunity, using the distraction Mulder’s arrival had caused, and pushed William to the floor, face first, so that the boy was lying on his belly. He straddled William, like he was tying a hog, or maybe an alligator, and then he raised the hand with the ice pick high up over his own head pointed at the back of William’s neck. 

“Quetecoatl must not return,” Snake Man muttered, and Scully whipped her head around to see Snake Man move the lethal weapon downward. Before she was consciously aware of it, the index finger on her right hand had pulled the trigger on her gun twice. 

Usually a gun’s report was thunderous, but this time everything was completely silent. Even the beating of her own heart seemed to stop. Scully watched, fascinated as the first bullet traveled slowly, cutting its way through the air like a torpedo through the sea, until it hit its mark just below the collarbone on Snake Man’s left shoulder. It seemed like minutes after the first that the second bullet pushed through his chest into his left pectoral muscle. Scully could have sworn she heard the man’s body inhale the lead, with a gentle slurp followed by a dull thud as the bullet struck bone and lodged itself against a rib.

And then time came rushing back to her.

Mulder pushed past her, and knelt on the floor next to Snake Man. Mulder took the ice pick out of Snake Man’s hand, threw it a few feet to the side, and then grabbed the lapels of the man’s torn collar. Snake Man’s eyes fluttered frantically, as he tried to gulp as much oxygen as he could get. In a moment that was not quite déjà vu, but close enough, she heard Mulder ask “Who sent you?” It was like watching a moment from her past, of another time when William’s life had been threatened and she had shot to kill the man responsible.

“William?” She heard herself ask, then lowered the gun, and moved closer to the spot on the floor where William was still lying on his belly. She knelt next to him, and touched his back, wanting to soothe him. As soon as her fingertips brushed against his clothes, William pushed himself up off of the floor and ran out of the store into his father’s arms. Rob Van de Kamp’s arms.

Scully twisted around into a sitting position, dropped the gun on the cool, grungy floor, and exhaled as she watched William find comfort in the only family he knew.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 22, 2012

8:32 am

William watched them through the glass doors to the convenience store as he sat on one of the raised concrete medians supporting the gas pumps. His dad sat nearby, wanting to give William the space he knew he wanted, but unable to keep from glancing up every few seconds to make sure William was still there. William could sense his dad’s confusion. He couldn’t blame him. His dad hadn’t been dreaming events that were coming true. Not even his father’s worst nightmares could have conjured what was happening around them. William smiled weakly at the man who had taught him to throw a baseball and sink a free throw. They both had been shaken badly by what had happened inside the store, not just by the man who had tried to kill William, but by the actions taken by their new traveling companions. William had never seen that kind of violence aside from on television or at the movies. His dad seemed more shaken by their actions, though William had been bothered more by what had not been said aloud. 

William looked through the glass doors into the store. Mulder and Doctor Scully, though she had introduced herself to him as Dana, were still hovering over the man who had tried to kill him. Mulder shouted at the man, waving his hands wildly back and forth as he spoke. From where he sat, William could not tell whether the man’s eyes were open, but William knew he was still alive, if only barely. Dana sat on the floor cross-legged and kept glancing between the wounded man, who she had called Snake Man, and her gun on the floor. She looked either dazed, or like she was trying not to lose her control and shoot the man again. Even with his abilities, William was not sure which it was.

“Strange, isn’t it?”

William and his dad both turned their heads to the left toward the sound of Liam’s voice. They had all but forgotten about him in all of the excitement. William felt his dad wondering why Liam hadn’t simply run away. William knew the answer to that simple question. Liam would never willingly leave his side. After all, William was the Great Unifier, though Liam had yet to call him that to his face.

“What?” His dad asked Liam. 

“That such a gifted physician is also such a lethal shot,” Liam said. He spoke in his usual soft tone and flowery language. William thought he sounded like he was reading from a movie script. A very bad script. 

“She used to be a police officer,” William said, turning back to look at Dana. She looked up and met his gaze. As Mulder continued to berate the dying man, Dana pushed herself off of the floor, picked up her gun and turned away from the front doors through which William watched her. 

“Will? Did she tell you that?” his dad asked with a hint of condescension.

William shook his head, and turned to look at his father. 

“Then how do you know?” His dad asked.

William shrugged. “She wasn’t really a police officer, but something like it. I’m not sure. Ask her if you don’t believe me.” 

“How much do you know about these two?” Liam asked, directing the question to his dad, not to William. “They come from nowhere, inject you with a strange liquid and ask you to follow them across the country.”

“Sounds a lot like you,” His dad said, not looking at Liam.

“But I have never been violent. Mr. Van de Kamp, if you come with me, I will promise to protect your son by pledging my life to keep him from all enemies that would try to bring him harm. There is gas in the truck. Mulder left the keys in the ignition. I know the way.”

“She saved my life. She tried to help Susan. She shot that man to protect Will,” His dad said, sounding like he was making a pros versus cons list to convince himself.

“But her weapon makes you uneasy, does it not? These two do not understand peace like you and I. Their hearts are filled with struggle and their minds of war. I know a place where men like that man who she has probably killed cannot find you or your son. A place where the Plague that killed your wife does not dare tread. A place where the violence of this world cannot reach you. A place where your son will be treated like royalty.”

Rob crinkled his brow, and turned toward Liam. “You sound like a lunatic. Who are you?”

“I was sent to find William to protect him. He is very special to the world.”

“I don’t think there is any world left,” his father said.

The adults outside continued to talk. To William their voices became background noise, a fuzzy signal inside his head. He narrowed his eyes, and strained his ears to listen in on the conversation between the adults inside the store. Though, why he did this he couldn’t say. He could no more use his ears to hear them speak than he could use his arms to fly.

Dana moved near Mulder and kneeled on the floor. She placed her hands on Mulder’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. Mulder’s fists were still wrapped tightly around Snake Man’s clothes as he continued to shake the man. Though her back was to him, William heard Dana’s words in his mind as she spoke to Mulder. 

 

“Mulder, he’s dead,” she said coolly. Mulder made no indication that he heard her, so she grabbed his hands and tugged them away. She spoke again more forcefully. “Mulder, stop!”

He gave Snake Man one more defiant shove and then released him. Mulder sat back on the floor cross-legged, a foot or so away from Snake Man’s body.

“Still felt good,” Mulder said with more than a little frustration.

Dana took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. “Do you think he was crazy, or do you think he actually knows who William is?”

“Both,” Mulder said.

“How?” Dana asked. She looked around the store, focusing on nothing in particular. “How could he know we’d even be here? At this moment?”

Mulder shrugged. “Luck… fate… with help? What I *do* know is that man called William by the same name that Liam used. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think that Quetzalcoatl is a common nickname for twelve year olds these days.” Mulder scratched his head and had a brief look of vacancy in his eyes. “Jesus! William! Is he okay?” Mulder asked, pushing himself off of the floor.

Outside, an eavesdropping Willam ducked his head guiltily upon hearing his name. He felt like a puppy who’d been caught eating the garbage. When he realized the adults did not know he was listening, William straightened up and smirked at himself. He looked around to see if anybody noticed. His father was still bickering with Liam, and had almost completely turned his back to his son. Satisfied nobody knew what he was doing, he turned back to listen again on Mulder and Dana. Though, Mulder only called her Scully, which was strange to William because she introduced herself to William as Dana Scully, meaning Mulder called her by her last name. William had yet to figure out what Mulder’s first name was. Grown-ups could be very odd.

“He’s outside with Rob. He was shaken up quite a bit, and I should probably check him out, but I think he’ll be fine. He seems to have his father’s knack for finding danger and escaping death,” Dana said. William got the feeling that she was not speaking about Rob Van de Kamp. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he felt the way he did, but he had begun to believe that Mulder and Dana knew more about him than his father ever could. Mulder was the man – or one of the men – he’d been dreaming about. That he had been sure about since he first saw him in his parent’s bedroom, before he had actually seen Mulder in person. What he hadn’t quite been able to figure out was which dream he knew Mulder from. 

“Hey Scully, take a look at this,” Mulder said, snapping William out of his own thoughts. Mulder knelt back down and peered at Snake Man’s hand. “He’s got a tattoo.”

“Yeah, I saw it when he had William. Briefly. His skin is peeling off though,” Dana said.

“Kind of looks like a molting snake, doesn’t it? But check out the tattoo. I’ve seen it before.” Mulder hesitated, but he touched Snake Man’s hand. Dana quickly reached out to hold him back.

“Mulder, the lesions,” she said. Once the serum had taken effect, William's dad's own lesions had begun to fade, but Snake Man was riddled with them.

“It’s okay. I think if we were going to catch it, we would have already.” Mulder touched the flap of skin on Snake Man’s hand and placed it back to its original spot, grimacing the whole time. The image of the tattoo became clearer and Dana could finally make out what it was.

As Dana looked closer, so did William, until what she was seeing was as clear as a photograph in his mind. He had never gone this deeply inside a person’s thoughts before. He felt a twinge of guilt, but not enough to close the virtual door linking them together. He wanted to know why the Snake Man had tried to kill him. He wanted to know how he had gone from being an average sixth grader who was excited about the arrival of Christmas vacation one week ago to being the most popular kid on the block, or the planet. Maybe even the universe.

A picture formed in his brain. The tattoo was one color, a soft reddish-brown. The image looked like it had been scratched onto the skin the way you could draw a shape into concrete with a hard rock. A line zigzagged across the back of Snake Man’s hand, and at one end was a triangle with lines radiating from it like the sun. It was the image of a serpent and it looked like hieroglyphics William had once seen in a text book in school. He could not remember which class, however.

“Scully, does this look at all familiar to you?” Mulder asked. Dana shook her head. 

“Guess calling him snake man was right, though,” she said.

“It looks familiar to me,” Mulder said.

“Will?” He heard his name spoken aloud. It came from without, not within his mind. When William didn’t respond, he heard the question repeated more forcefully, and then he realized his father’s hand was on his shoulder.

William looked up, breaking away from the conversation inside the store, much to his disappointment.

“What are you doing?” His father asked with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“I was just–“ William started to say.

“Where the hell is he?” Mulder interrupted as he threw open the door to the store and barreled outside. Dana followed closely behind him. Mulder looked quickly at William, then to his father, and then he scanned the area nearby, finally settling on Liam. “Hold out your right hand,” Mulder demanded, holding out his own. Liam mimicked Mulder’s position and held out both hands, palms facing up.

“Turn them over,” Mulder said.

Liam obeyed, though he was not afraid. To William, he seemed amused. This time using his own eyes, William saw what Mulder saw.

Liam and the Snake Man had the exact same tattoo.

^^^^^^^^^^


	3. Part Three

PART THREE

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kayenta Valley

December 22, 2012

2:30 p.m.

The sun was high overhead; light poured down like rain, unhindered by clouds or any other flying object, for the first time in what felt like weeks. Monica arched back her head, lifted up her face and closed her eyes, basking in the blissful warmth. It was only sixty degrees, but compared to the last several days of near constant downpour it felt like a sauna, and it was wonderful. 

"What are you smiling about?" John asked. 

She hadn't realized she was smiling.

John walked alongside her and she cocked her head to see him. The five of them had ditched Monica's car a mile or so back when the little Honda couldn't make it over the ancient, rocky terrain. They'd been forced to walk the remaining two miles through the desert to Aiden's camp. John's mood had seemed to improve with the weather just like hers had. His question seemed born more from confusion or curiosity than from irritation.

"I'm smiling because I feel good," she said, stretching her arms out wide and taking in a big breath through her nose. "We're alive and it's a beautiful day."

He lifted his eyebrows. "It's still early," he said, but his smile remained.

All five of them walked together in something of a trickle rather than a tight group. Aiden led the way, but was closely followed by Gibson and Joy, with Monica and John lagging several steps behind. Joy hadn't spoken much yet but to Monica it looked as if her fear of Aiden had melted away. Joy seemed to think of both of the older boys as her big brothers and they seemed to feel the same about her. They had grown protective of each other. The three of them shared a common bond that Monica didn't fully understand, but was glad to see nevertheless.

Monica and John walked side by side in silence for a few minutes, but Monica noticed John occasionally glancing her way, turning his head slightly towards her, then away to look at his feet or an obscure point in the distance.

"What's on your mind, John?" she asked, knowing if she didn't ask now he might never find his words.

He gave her a wary smile. "Where do I begin?" he asked. He remained quiet for a long enough period of time that Monica assumed he would never continue. She had resigned herself to finish the walk in silence when he finally said, "I'm not a mind reader and I know that I sometimes frustrate you and Gibson --" 

"--John," she interrupted.

"No, wait,” he said. “Even though I'm stubborn, and I can be a fool sometimes, I am trying, Monica.”

"I know you are," she said, meaning it.

"I just want you to know that I trust you. I always have. So, if you say we can trust this guy..." he said, waving a hand towards Aiden, "... I'll buy into it. I just need to know one thing."

"Okay," she said, drawing the word out, worried by what he might ask. They had left so much unresolved the last time they’d spoken. What he’d been thinking about over the last several years both intrigued and frightened her a little.

"Why didn't you ever call me?" he asked. "I would have helped you."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes, skeptical. "You would have?"

"Of course," he said, mimicking her face. He let out a breath that was part laugh, part sigh. He seemed hurt that she would doubt his sincerity. "I thought you trusted me."

Monica stopped walking and turned to face him, holding her hand to his chest, stopping him. "John, I trust you. I know you would have *wanted* to help me, but --"

"But what?" he asked. "You didn't want it?"

Monica shook her head. "You didn't want it," she said, lowering her head. "Frankly, I was tired of trying to convince you the things you had seen with your own eyes were real." She winced as she saw the hurt her words caused cross over his face.

"But, I --" he started to say.

She looked back up at him. "I cared about you, John--I still care about you--but it was just easier for us to be apart, as partners and as friends. I couldn't ask you to do something you couldn't understand, especially when I knew it could get us both killed." She had wanted to tell him that for a long time, but never thought she would. It just seemed to spill out of her.

His brow creased, his frustration growing. "Then why did you come here to ask for my help now?"

"I didn't," she said coolly. 

"Right. You were looking for him," he said, jerking his thumb towards Gibson. The Three Amigos had slowed down considerably; no doubt they could hear every word of her conversation with John.

"John, I don't want to hurt you. I'm glad you're here. I didn't realize how much I needed you until I saw you," she said. She reached out to touch his arm, but John avoided her eyes and started walking again, kicking up dust as he passed her. It landed on Monica's skin, sticking to her sweat-dampened arms.

Monica blew out a long breath through her lips and stamped her foot down, creating another cloud of reddish dust. She stood with her hands on her hips and watched him walk away to catch up with the others who had stopped to stand near the edge of a cliff. They stood side by side looking down at something Monica could not see.

Gibson turned around towards her and waved, signaling for her to hurry up. Monica waved back in acknowledgement and jogged a few hundred feet to where they all stood.

"What is it?" she asked, breathing hard. She was definitely going to have to start running again.

"We're here," Aiden said with a huge smile on his face, uncharacteristic for the usually stoic man. Monica looked down into a chasm. She couldn’t see much detail because of the distance, but it looked like several tents were scattered throughout the flat floor of a relatively narrow canyon carved long ago by a now dried up raging river. Sheer rock cliffs, bathed in the dark red color of oxidized iron, jutted a hundred feet straight up on either side, including the side she stood on. 

"How do we get down?" John asked.

Aiden moved away from them to the right. "Follow me and don't look down."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Rural Wyoming

December 22, 2012

9:37 am

“Who is he?” Mulder demanded. His right arm swung back wildly with his index finger pointing straight towards the convenience store doors. Inside was the body of the man Scully had called Snake Man. Mulder’s eyes stayed focused on Liam. “What’s his name?”

Liam stood less than a foot from Mulder, but he said nothing.

“Answer me!” Mulder said.

“I don’t know that man,” Liam said finally. He didn’t seem intimidated by Mulder’s anger, which pissed Mulder off even more. He was giving Liam his best bad cop routine and the man was not flinching. Unfortunately for Liam, Mulder was no longer a law enforcement officer, bound by rules of conduct and ethics and kept in check by surveillance cameras. Though Mulder had rarely found himself on the verge of striking a suspect he was interviewing when he’d been an agent, he felt that urge crawling up his spine now. There was nobody around to tell Mulder he couldn’t beat the hell out of Liam if he wanted to, except for Scully.

“You’re lying,” Mulder said, leaning into Liam’s space. Mulder stood a good six inches above the younger Liam, who was lean, though well muscled. The expression on Liam’s face did not change, but he did take a slight step backwards. “I don’t think you want to piss me off. I’ve had a very bad decade.”

Rob, who’d been watching with a somewhat dumbstruck expression on his face, moved closer to the pair of men, leaning forward to look closer at Liam’s hand, inspecting the strange pictures imbedded in the skin. “This guy has the same tattoo as the man who tried to kill Will?” Rob asked Mulder.

“Yeah, and I’m betting that he knows a hell of a lot more about what that guy in there wanted than he’s letting on,” Mulder said. 

Mulder looked at Rob. Over Rob’s shoulder behind him, Mulder caught a glimpse of William, who had stayed back, but was watching the four adults thoughtfully. *You know more than all of us, don’t you?* Mulder thought and William looked down at his shoes, confirming Mulder’s suspicions. He’d been having a strange sensation which was part intuition and part de jevu about William since they’d met. What Mulder couldn’t quite figure out was whether William felt the same way. Now at least Mulder had an idea. 

Mulder forced his attention back to Liam. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he led that guy directly to us,” he said.

Rob looked up and took an uncertain step backwards. “He told me he wanted to take my son to a place where he’d be protected, treated like royalty,” Rob said, shaking his head. A moment later, his eyebrows crinkled and his eyes locked on Liam. Mulder could physically see Rob Van de Kamp’s mood shift from confusion to anger. His eyes sharpened and narrowed, his muscles tensed. When Rob spoke again there was no hint of the dazed man Mulder and Scully had been leading around for the past day. Mulder was glad to see some fire inside William’s adoptive father. “You wanted me to take Will to your group, your cult, so you could kill him, didn’t you? You were trying to trick me into following you. Who the hell are you?” Rob grabbed Liam’s shirt and stood eye to eye with the man. “Tell me now!”

Scully stepped forward and stood in front of Mulder next to Rob. She had been silent since coming outside of the convenience store. She still held her weapon in her right hand, but it rested against her leg pointing to the ground at her side. Still in Rob’s grasp, Liam glanced quickly downward, then back up to Mulder, finally settling his eyes on Scully. “Are you going to shoot me too, Ms. Scully? We all know you’re quite capable of killing. If I were you, Mr. Van de Kamp, I’d be more afraid of these two than of me.”

Mulder licked his lips and nodded, smiling a little at Liam’s attempt at mind games. Rob’s eyes flickered downward, his gaze settling on Scully’s gun while continuing to hold onto Liam. From the sound of it, Liam was at least half decent in the arts of manipulation.

“Nobody’s shooting anyone,” Scully said calmly, “but we are going to talk.” She put her hand on Rob’s shoulder, sliding it down to the crook in his elbow and gently tugging. “This is getting us no where. We can’t stay here forever.” 

Rob didn’t move at first. His knuckles were turning white and Mulder thought Rob might still throw a punch at Liam. Mulder hoped he would.

“Mr. Van de Kamp? Sir, please,” Scully said. 

Rob let out a long breath and released his grasp on Liam’s shirt. “Call me Rob,” he said.

Scully smiled. “Okay then. Rob, we need to leave here, but before we do, Liam is going to answer our questions,” she said, not looking at Liam at all. “For starters, what he knows about that man in there.” Scully turned towards Liam, facing him squarely.

“I already told you I don’t know him,” Liam said, now sounding petulant.

Rob stepped forward once more, fingers balled into fists. Scully again put her hand on his shoulder and he held back, but he looked like a tightly wound spring.

“But you know something about him, about that tattoo on his hand, the one on your hand,” she said softly, keeping eye contact with Liam. Mulder had seen her do this hundreds of times before. Scully was making Liam believe the interrogation was over when in fact it had only just begun. She sounded more like a parent than a cop, in control with a hint of condescension. Liam’s brashness from a moment ago was falling away and despite Scully’s lack of aggression, he seemed more afraid of her than he had of Mulder or Rob. He was more the timid man they had first discovered tied to a chair in the Van de Kamp’s bedroom the day before. The timbre of Scully’s voice and her manner was having an almost hypnotic effect on Liam.

Liam nodded. “Yes, I know something,” he said.

“What do you know, Liam”? Scully asked.

“He was one of us, but I didn’t know him,” Liam said, somewhat trance-like.

“One of you?”

“A member of my group… my family. Only members have the marks,” Liam said, rubbing his left hand absently over the tattoo on his right.

“Why would he want to harm William? You said you wanted to protect him,” Scully said.

“I do. We do. William means everything to us,” Liam said.

“How do you know my son?” Rob interrupted loudly, stepping back into Liam’s space. Scully put her hand gently on his shoulder, calming him. Rob cleared his throat, and again put his frustration in check. 

“Why would that man want to harm William?” Scully asked again.

Liam shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense.” 

Liam continued to scratch his hand. Mulder remembered how Snake Man’s hand barely had any skin at all. How he was a man, but was molting like a reptile. Snake Man had been infected by the alien virus. Then something occurred to Mulder, something he couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered before. Liam appeared to be perfectly healthy. 

Mulder could account for his own health, as well as Scully’s. They had injected themselves with Mesabi Ferrum. Rob Van de Kamp had been injected as well, essentially proving to Mulder that the serum worked. Rob had been on the brink of death, but minutes after receiving the stuff, he’d dramatically improved. The only people that were so far uninfected were Liam and William.

“Liam,” Mulder said, looking to Scully, letting her know he had an idea, “how is it that you are healthy? If that guy in there is a member of your group, how was he infected and you’re not?”

“Nobody in our group is infected,” Liam said with certainty.

“How do you know? You must have left the camp before the rain started,” Scully said.

“Because God directed us to a safe haven. He said that we would survive the coming Plague so that the Serpent King could rule over only those who are true believers,” he said.

“This guy is absolutely nuts,” Rob said. “I think we should just leave him and get out of here.”

“Scully, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mulder asked, already leading her out of earshot of the others, leaving Rob and Liam to puff out their chests alone.

“Mulder, Rob’s right. That man is crazy,” Scully said, half whispering.

“I think we should go to his camp after all,” Mulder said, quietly, so that only she could hear. 

“Maybe he’s not the only one who’s crazy,” she said. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to go north?”

“Scully, it’s just a hunch, but I think there’s something at that camp that we need to find.”

“What?”

Mulder shook his head and looked behind Scully to Liam, whose eyes darted nervously between Rob and Mulder. “I’m not sure, but I think there’s something about his camp that prevents infection. He said the camp was in the south. What’s in the south, Scully? The Red Rocks. Roswell. The Painted Desert. Iron.”

“Mulder, he never said specifically where the camp was located,” she said.

“No, but I’m willing to bet you one million dollars that it’s somewhere in Anasazi Indian country,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “Maybe near Chaco Canyon.”

Scully smiled, “One million dollars?”

He shrugged, smiling with her, “I’m sure I could scrounge that up pretty easily these days. Scully, remember when we were driving through the Iron Range in Minnesota?”

She nodded, “It was only two days ago, but it feels like a lifetime.”

“Maybe the high concentration of iron in the geology slows down or kills the virus, just like your serum. If that’s true, then maybe that’s the safest place for us to be. At least for now,” he said.

“That still doesn’t explain why Liam’s not infected,” Scully said. “He left the camp before the virus came.”

“Maybe he built up immunity, vaccine by osmosis or something,” he said, shrugging.

“Vaccine by osmosis?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Mulder you can’t actually believe that, can you?”

“Why not? There have been studies on children who grow up drinking water high in fluoride. The research shows they tend to have teeth more resilient to cavities than those who don’t get extra fluoride. Maybe this works the same way.”

She let out a breath sounding somewhere between concession and skepticism. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right.”

“Am I on Candid Camera?” he asked, straight-faced but lightheartedly. He looked around for the imaginary television crew.

Ignoring him, she continued, “That doesn’t explain William.”

Mulder sobered a little and turned his head, checking on the boy he had momentarily forgotten. William sat with his face in his hands on the cement median under the gas pumps. Scully was right. His theory didn’t explain William. Wyoming had a relatively normal iron level. Why William had not succumbed to the same infection the Van de Kamps had was a complete mystery. So much had happened in the last day that Mulder had forgotten why they’d been in such a hurry to reach William in the first place. They wanted to give him a chance to survive. They’d wanted to inject him with Mesabi Ferrum. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t explain why he’s not infected, but I still think we need to go to this camp of Liam’s,” Mulder said.

“One other thing, Mulder,” she said. “That man in there, who tried to kill William, he was infected. If he was from Liam’s camp, and your theory is correct, how could that be possible?”

“You have to trust me, Scully,” he said. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had lost count during their exile how many times he had said that to her and failed her. “Scully?”

She looked up at him, waiting.

“This fight isn’t over. I think it’s just begun. Something tells me that he may be crazy, but Liam’s cult buddies hold at least part of the key to finishing it,” he said, locking her eyes on his. 

She blinked slowly. Licking her lips, she said, “Okay then. We better get moving.”

Mulder smiled and turned back toward the other two men.

 

“And Mulder,” she said. He turned to her serious, almost grim face. “You’re showing your age. Candid Camera has been gone a long, long time.” The corners of her mouth turned up until finally she revealed a full toothy grin.

He’d nearly forgotten, but god how he loved this woman.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Washington, DC

December 22, 2012

3:28 pm

Tom Davis watched as the second hand on his office wall clock ticked along at a frantic pace. Time seemed to be speeding up, yet time was just as irrelevant as he was. The orders had been given and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Phase Two was in full swing and soon enough the small pockets of survivors who were scattered all over North America -- and the world -- would think they had been the unlucky ones. 

As he sat in his comfortable office chair, triangular-shaped spacecraft zipped through the skies, hunting down any Human Being not destroyed by the Plague. Though Phase Three officially began today, it would take days or even weeks to completely finish the task of removing remnants of human life. Sooner or later, the inferior race known as mankind would cease to exist and a noble race of beings would begin Colonization, finishing what they should have started several millennia ago. 

And this time they were here to stay.

Tom looked away from the clock and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander away from the reality that he had played such an integral role in creating. Sometimes Tom felt as if his memories had been stolen from someone else, and that he had been split into thirds. There was who he had been before, and who he was now and yet there was a third person that was a combination of the two. 

He remembered being a boy, family vacations with his family to his grandfather’s farm in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. His father giving him tractor rides through the overgrown hay fields, long ago left to grow untamed in the absence of anyone willing to harvest the crops or let the cows out to pasture. Tom’s great-grandfather had started the farm shortly after emigrating from Scotland. Only a generation later, after Tom’s own grandfather had passed away and his father had become an engineer forsaking rural life, the farm was relegated merely to a place in his family’s collective memory. 

Tom remembered the farm, the faint smell of dried and ancient rotted hay, the sound of the creek bubbling through the woods, the feel of the cool northern air in autumn. It was as much a part of him as any memory in a boy’s life. Yet, as real as the memories of his childhood were, they were also foreign. The more time had passed, the less human he had become, the more the memories of his former life felt like stories he had read in a book written by someone else. The images were there, but the people in them felt like characters to him, and he was just a spectator in his mind’s theater.

The memories of the past twelve years, since his own abduction and transformation, were crisp and sharp. Yet with each progress report he received and with each projection estimate he read, the more he found himself dwelling on the fuzzy memories of his childhood. Although he had barely thought about his parents since his return, Tom’s mind drifted to them now. In their minds, he had died after going missing during a solo hike outside of Moab, Utah. Tom had no memory of the event, and barely any memory of his time on the ship, but when he had returned and awakened he had felt reborn. An overwhelming understanding of his new mission, his role in creation of the world to come, had replaced his petty human fears of failure and of the future.

He would finally be part of something bigger, something pre-destined.

Underneath his wall clock hung a large plasma television screen displaying a map of North America. Littering the map were tiny red dots, mostly centered in the Southwestern United States, parts of Northern Minnesota and various other “red zones.” Every few seconds the map would blink and then there would be fewer dots on the screen. Literally in the blink of an eye, thousands of humans had been exterminated, and Tom wondered if his parents had been among them. He wasn’t sure which he would prefer; knowing they’d succumbed to the virus or knowing they’d been chased down like vermin, like rats on his family’s old farm.

Tom’s door swung open, interrupting his retrospection. The door slammed against the wall it hinged on and bounced back, almost hitting the woman bursting through it into his office. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” the woman said, nearly floating the ten feet or so to Tom’s desk where he sat hunched over, hands cupping his face.

“Here I am, hiding,” Tom said with little inflection in his voice. “Must have been an exhaustive search for you, what with my name being on the door.”

The woman, thin with long blonde hair, dressed in a black pinstriped pantsuit, put her hands on her hips. “Are you drunk?”

Tom laughed, a deep, roaring sound rumbling up from his belly, “I don’t think I can get drunk anymore,” he said between breaths. “Can you, Claire?

Claire shook her head. Apparently she didn’t find the humor within her own question the way Tom did, “No, I suppose I can’t. You just seem drunk.”

He finally caught his breath, and sighed, drawn out and loud. “What is it you need?”

“They want to know if you’ve finished the final tests on the anti-venom,” she said.

“It’s not anti-venom. It’s a vaccine and yes I have. It should be ready,” Tom said.

“Should be? Tom, you know how important the ceremony is. Even if full colonization isn’t possible yet, they want to officially begin today and they can’t do that without your *vaccine*. If the Gray leaders have a bad reaction, or God forbid, die because they weren’t ready to be exposed to earth’s iron, I don’t think I need to explain to you what will happen.”

“No, Claire, you don’t,” he said, his laughter giving way to irritation. Of course he knew what would happen. He had been reminded nearly every day what the repercussions of failure would be. “The vaccine developed from the antibodies produced by The Twelve will protect all those who are intolerant to iron. They will need regular boosters, but they will be safe.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I explained this in my last report,” Tom said, standing up and walking over to the television screen now with fewer red dots than before. He watched as several more blinked and then disappeared from the screen. 

“Your report also mentioned a setback,” she said. Tom could hear the smile in her voice, like she had been waiting to bring that up since she’d stormed into his office.

Tom turned around to face her.

“Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Claire,” he nearly spat.

And now he could see the smile on her usually stoic face. “All right, you know I never wanted you on this project. You’re careless and it’s obvious your heart isn’t in it. You may be a brilliant scientist, but you got reckless and let one of The Twelve get kidnapped. Not to mention the fact that she happened to be the one who had been injected with the magnetite serum. I won’t even get into why there was only one control subject in the first place,” she rambled on, “but what makes it worse is that she is out there and every indication tells us that she is pure poison, if not to you and me, then definitely to the project. This entire operation could be ruined and you didn’t bother to make that explicitly clear to those who need to hear it.”

“Oh, is that what’s bothering you?” Tom said, sounding bored. “Tell them it’s ready. Now get out.” Tom walked around his desk and sat down again.

Claire looked like she wanted to say more, like it was a struggle to hold her tongue and it probably was. She had never been one to keep her opinion to herself, a fact he’d observed was true of her even in bed. He also knew that she knew she had said too much already. He was the one in charge here, at least for now, and she had better damn well get used to it.

Clamping her jaw shut, she spun around on her heels and flew out the door as fast as she had arrived. When he could no longer hear her heels clicking down the empty hallway, he turned back to his wall clock. Five minutes had passed and probably one hundred red dots had disappeared.

Tom Davis was certain of one thing. It was not God who was responsible for it all. He was.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Colorado Springs, Colorado

December 22, 2012

4:56 p.m.

He should have ditched them all hours ago. He knew this. He felt it in his gut. Nothing good would come from following this crazy man and his slightly less crazy, though somewhat scarier wife or girlfriend, whatever she was, to anywhere. If it were not for Will, Rob would not care if anything good ever happened in this life again. 

Instead of taking Will and making a break for it, he was rummaging around in an enormous sporting goods store, arms loaded, with one eye on his son, who Rob had told not to leave his sight for the rest of his natural life. They were gearing up for the rest of their trek south, to the camp where at least two men even crazier than Mulder, claimed was the safest place on earth, even protected by God Himself.

The Van de Kamps had tried to be good Christians. They had attended the local Methodist church every Sunday, participated in church dinners and bible studies, attended a potluck fundraiser from time to time. They generally considered themselves to be spiritually healthy and devoted followers, but as religious a man Rob Van de Kamp was, a stranger talking about taking his son to meet God was a person he wanted as far away from Will as possible. Yet once again Rob found himself following the tall, dark haired man with the slightly too large nose and the petite lady with fiery red hair and eyes as blue as Will’s with barely any question. 

Rob decided to name it Post Traumatic Stress and call it a day.

“Will?” Rob called. His son had been meandering through various sections of the store, running his fingers over an item here and there, picking items up, but never holding on to them for long. But now, Will had dipped out of view. Rob’s heart rate spiked, suddenly making him feel like he’d just slammed ten cups of black coffee. A moment later, Will popped up, poking his head out of a two man tent set up for display and Rob’s blood pressure slowed down to normal. 

Rob bent over and dropped his looted goods on the floor in front of a rack full of hiker’s backpacks. He considered his choices for a moment, grabbed a medium sized pack, which was colored bright orange and had yellow trim. He knelt down on one knee and stuffed the provisions into the pack. Most of the items were packets of dried food, a change of clothes for himself and Will, some Swiss Army knives he had always had his eyes on but had been too practical to purchase, and other miscellaneous supplies that would help them survive in the desert wilderness.

Mulder and Dana stood close to each other several aisles away from him among hundreds of different types of water bottles of every shape and color and material. The light from the nearly set sun shone in through the store’s large skylight, bouncing off of the bottles, casting a colorful glow over Mulder and Dana. Rob couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see the tension in their faces. Dana shook her head as Mulder whispered something to her, then reached a hand out, and caressed her face. Dana closed her eyes, brought her own fingers up to Mulder’s hand, holding them there for a moment and pressing his knuckles to her closed lips.

They looked exhausted.

It was strange to think it, but with all that had happened in the past two days, Rob had not given much consideration to these two people. He knew virtually nothing about either of them, yet they had convinced him to leave his wife, his home and follow them across the country with a man who claimed that Will was the Messiah, or something to that effect. 

He knew Dana was a doctor and according to Will had possibly been a cop, though Rob was not sure how Will knew that, since he’d said approximately five words to Dana since they’d met. Rob had thought Will was afraid of her, especially after the incident with the man in the gas station, when Dana had killed him in front of Will. Though the more Rob observed Will and Dana when they were together, the more he realized that they were both afraid of and curious about the other. They looked at each other the way people do when they recognize a face, but can’t quite place the name or remember where they met, like old acquaintances who had lost touch and grown apart.

Rob twisted his body around, catching sight of Will again, who was hopping in and out of a Kevlar canoe. The canoe sat atop a blue carpet approximating a clear blue lake. Will looked up, made eye contact, and smiled wanly. Rob returned the sentiment, smiling back. Will broke his gaze away and continued with his private game. 

Still stuffing items into his half empty pack, Rob turned back to Mulder and Dana. One summer during college, Rob had worked as a ranch hand. One of his least favorite tasks had been helping the rancher put down sick or injured livestock. The look on Mulder and Dana’s faces right now reminded Rob of that summer. He couldn’t remember seeing two people ever looking quite so afraid, so sad, so frustrated and angry… so troubled. Though, he would be willing to bet all the money in the world that they were probably saying the same thing about him. 

Dana glanced quickly towards Will. Mulder touched her chin with one long finger and turned her face back, forcing her to make eye contact with him. She smiled unconvincingly and then Mulder moved his face closer, briefly brushing his lips over hers. The movement, so tender and filled with love, immediately reminded Rob of Susan and he had to look away from the two strangers who were now his only friends in the world.

Rob turned his head downward, placed the last two pouches of dried beef into the pack and zipped it up.

“I think we’re almost ready,” Mulder said, startling Rob slightly. “Sorry.”

Rob cleared his throat. “No, it’s okay. I was just lost in thought,” he said, standing up, looking around. “Where’s Dana?”

“She wanted to make sure she had all the medical supplies she needed,” Mulder said, swinging his own backpack up to rest on one shoulder. “Where’s William? And Liam, for that matter?”

“Will’s over there, in the canoe,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the fake lake. “I think Liam’s bringing a load to the truck, or driving off with it. Not entirely sure which I would prefer right now.”

Mulder’s cheeks twitched and he blew a breath out through his nose. The two men stood there in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Mulder’s eyes shifted in the direction of Will, who was now paddling the air, possibly pushing himself through imagined choppy waters.

“Can I ask you something?” Rob said. 

Mulder seemed not to hear him at first, but keeping his eyes on Will, he said finally, “Sure,” then turning back to look at Rob, “fire away.”

“Who are you two?” Rob asked, hoping he sounded curious and not angry.

“What do you mean?” Mulder asked, hesitatingly. 

“I mean, who are you? Where did you come from? How did you find us? And how do you claim to know so much about what’s happened? You still believe this was some kind of alien invasion, don’t you?”

“Oh, is that all?” Mulder asked with a crooked smile. “I thought you wanted to know something personal like my favorite color or whether I prefer chocolate or vanilla. Really hard questions like that.” 

Rob laughed. It was the first time he had laughed in years, or so it felt. 

Mulder laughed too.

Still smiling Rob continued, “Seriously though. You seem absolutely crazy yet completely sane at the same time.”

“That’s actually one of the nicer things anyone’s ever said to me,” Mulder said. 

Rob kept his eyes on Mulder, not letting him off the hook, but content to wait him out.

“Rob, we’ll have plenty of time to tell you the whole story later. What’s most important is what you already know about us.”

“What is that?”

“That we’re on the same side you are,” Mulder said. “That we only want to protect you and William and ourselves and live to see another day.”

“Will must have gotten it wrong,” Rob said, smirking.

“How’s that?”

“He said Dana used to be a cop, but I think it was you,” Rob said, then added, “a cop or a shrink.”

Mulder laughed at that. “Actually, it’s all of the above,” he said. Rob’s brow crinkled, not understanding what Mulder meant. Mulder shook his head. “Scully and I were FBI Agents a long time ago. We were partners. We saw a lot of things during the time we worked together and since then. That’s why we know so much about what’s happening.”

“So, it was the government then?”

“Yes, but not the way you’re thinking. I meant what I said… this virus, this Plague, the thing that killed your wife and almost killed you,” Mulder said, sobering his tone, “it came from above, but it wasn’t brought by God or mankind.”

“Little green men?” Rob asked, eyebrows arched.

“Gray,” Mulder said.

Rob scrunched up his brow, shook his head.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Mulder said, putting a hand on Rob’s shoulder, turning him around and leading him towards the canoe Will sat in.

“FBI, huh?” Rob said and Mulder nodded. “I guess that explains why you call each other by your last names. Of course, maybe Mulder is your first name. Is it?” he asked, turning his head to look at Mulder, eyes smiling.

“Let’s just say my first name is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to quirks and interesting factoids in my family history,” Mulder said as the two men walked shoulder to shoulder towards their son.

^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWELVE

Colorado Springs, Colorado

December 22, 2012

4:37 p.m.

Scully darted around the store, trying to keep herself busy. It was a large Galyan’s sporting goods store, complete with a pool for testing out kayaks and a one hundred foot wall for rock climbing. They’d driven all day. It wasn’t until evening, after they’d passed through Denver, that the group realized they had virtually no supplies for surviving in an isolated camp in the Southwest. Although Liam claimed the place was quite comfortable and well-stocked, absolutely no hardship at all, Scully thought it would not be wise to take too many chances when trekking into the desert for who knew how long. Mulder and Rob had agreed and Liam had sulked. 

Scully and Mulder had purposely kept their worldly possessions to the bare essentials during their time in hiding. It was easier to get out of Dodge when there wasn’t much to pack. They did have a few items useful for camping--sleeping bags and canteens--but Scully wanted to make sure they had enough medical supplies. And, she admitted to herself, a new change of clothes would feel like Heaven. 

Once they’d broken into the store through the glass-covered front door, Scully handed everyone their assignment list and set them off on a scavenger hunt. Her list included medical supplies. Mulder’s list, God help her, included finding suitable clothing for the two of them. Rob and William would find clothes for themselves, as well as try to find long-lasting and transportable food items. Liam’s task was to stay out of their way, but she didn’t tell him that. Scully suggested a good way for Liam to help would be to pack the truck and make sure everything fit neatly in the little space they had left after fitting four adults and one boy in a relatively small SUV. 

The store was well organized and neatly labeled. It didn’t take Scully long before she managed to find a medical kit that had been developed exclusively for hiking. It had all the basic supplies, bandages, antiseptic spray and gauze, neatly stowed away in dedicated slots within a nylon bag that easily clipped into a larger backpack, which she stuffed full of extras. Once she was satisfied the pack was filled with everything they might need, barring an extraordinarily severe accident, Scully zipped it up and turned in the direction of the front door. 

She walked past an aisle with freeze dried food and cooking hardware. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight movement and she stopped to inspect it. William stood about halfway down the aisle. He faced a row of shelving. Each shelf was stocked with packets dehydrated food such as beef stew and powdered milk. He was holding one silvery packet of something, but Scully couldn’t tell what was inside it. He held the dried food pouch out at arms length, appearing like he was reading the ingredients, but it seemed clear to Scully he was simply staring.

Without looking up at her, he spoke. “It’s ice cream.”

She turned fully towards him, feeling somewhat guilty for spying on him and somewhat surprised that he had spoken to her at all. She hadn’t made a sound and she stood behind him out of his peripheral view, for one thing. For another, since the incident at the gas station, William had been distinctly avoiding her. Mulder had tried to tell her William was just suffering from shock and she reminded him that she was the medical doctor and not completely blind.

Scully put the medical pack down on the floor and stepped closer to William, carefully keeping out of his personal space. She peered over his shoulder, reading the package which had a picture of an astronaut in a full space suit, helmet and sun visor drawn on it. “The astronauts took that with them to the moon,” she said.

William looked up at her. He didn’t smile, but his eyes gave away his curiosity. “It doesn’t melt?”

Scully smiled and held her hand out. William handed her the silver pouch and she tore open the top, feeling strangely guilty for not paying first. “It’s not frozen. See?” She pulled the Neapolitan ice cream out. It was a powdery pink, chocolate and vanilla block vaguely resembling soap, but lighter and less dense. Scully broke a piece off and handed it to William. “It’s freeze-dried.”

“Who’d want to eat dehydrated ice cream?” He asked, taking a small bite in spite of himself. William wrinkled his nose, making a face suggesting his suspicions about the taste were correct. He put the remaining chunk of ice cream on the shelf near his feet.

“I suppose it made the astronauts feel like they weren’t so far from home after all,” Scully said, more to herself. She returned the rest of the odd substance back into its wrapping and put it down next to William’s discarded piece. She could remember once when she was a little girl and her father had brought her some astronaut ice cream. She’d thought it tasted strange too, but enjoyed it. Somehow, she hoped William might like it, as well. At least, they could share that together. Instead, they stood there quietly, awkwardly. William continued picking up packets of dried food, reading the label and then putting them back on the shelf. Scully tried to look like she was doing the same thing, but she couldn’t help glancing at him every few seconds. 

She sighed. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she was not sure she ever would say it -- or could say it. They were total strangers to each other and she was beginning to wonder if that would ever change.

She felt selfish. William had just lost his mother and here she was worried that she would not get to tell her son who she was, as if knowing would bring back the woman who had raised him and cared for him when he was sick. 

She was not that woman.

“I’ve never been sick,” William said.

“What?” Scully asked, turning to look at him, wondering if she had spoken out loud, and if so, how much had she said? “What did you say, sweetie?” She tried to sound casual. She forced a smile, not wanting to frighten him. 

“I’ve never been sick. Not ever,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. His eyes were blue, like hers, and both pairs were locked together now. She didn’t know him well enough, but if she had to guess, Scully would identify the look he gave her as challenging. 

“Not ever?” She asked, avoiding the subtext of William’s statement. Instead, Scully chose to direct the conversation towards a lighter end. “Not even a cold?”

“Not even a cold,” he said. “Sometimes it made me mad.”

“Why is that?” she asked, genuinely curious. If William had never been sick before, it would begin to answer questions she had about why he had not contracted the alien virus like the Van de Kamps.

“Because sometimes I wanted to stay home from school,” he said, smiling. It was the first time Scully had seen William smile since they’d met. He had Mulder’s smile. They stood there together, both with locked expressions of joy on their faces. It was the first real connection they had made. William’s gaze drifted from her eyes downward. He cocked his head, spotting something.

“I think my mom used to wear a necklace like that,” he said, pointing shyly at the small cross that glittered just below her collarbone. It was warm inside the store even though the heat had stopped working when the electricity had gone out. The sun, which poured in through the skylight, had created something like an oven effect and Scully had taken off her jacket while she tended to her list. She lifted her hand to the necklace. It was something she rarely thought about. The cross had become so much a part of her that it almost felt like her skin. 

William continued to look at it. He seemed lost in thought. “Your mother had a necklace like mine?” Scully asked. William didn’t respond, but he shook his head slowly. Scully wasn’t sure he had heard her question and his silence unnerved her slightly. She continued casually, “I got this from my mother for--“

“For your fifteenth birthday, or for Christmas. One of the two, but I’m not sure which one,” he said, still staring at the cross, speaking absently. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he turned one corner of his mouth up into a half-hearted smile, looking embarrassed. He bent over and picked up the backpack that sat on the floor near his feet. “I gotta go,” he said, and quickly walked away, leaving her to stand among the partially opened packets of dehydrated beef and astronaut ice cream. 

She let out a confused breath and then brought her hand to her cross, feeling the smooth metal on the pads of her fingers. 

A memory from long ago assaulted her. It was of William as a baby, when she was his mother. Both of them on her bed, his feet happily kicking wildly and his lips blowing wet, sloppy bubbles. She dangled her necklace over him and he watched the light bounce off of it, trying to grab it.

Scully turned to watch him go, walking quickly towards the display campsite with its pre-pitched tents and fake water carpet.

And she wondered if William hadn’t been talking about Susan Van de Kamp after all.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley,

December 22, 2012

6:06 p.m.

Monica had never felt so full in her entire life, except for maybe once in college, and that had not been because of food -- exquisite food -- but rather something a little less solid. She had lived in many cities throughout America and had traveled all over the world; she’d eaten in some of the finest restaurants on the planet, but absolutely none of them had compared to three helpings of five-alarm, so-hot-you-need-a-hydrant-to-put-it-out, chili and cornbread prepared over a campfire in the middle of an ancient canyon somewhere in the American southwest. It could have been that she hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, but Monica didn’t think so. This was some very good chili.

They sat in a circle around the fire -- John on one side of Monica and Joy on her other. Next to Joy was Gibson. Aiden had spent the first hour of their time at the camp introducing them to the group and now he was off preparing a place for them to sleep for the night. From the moment they’d arrived at Aiden’s refuge in the desert, they’d been treated like guests at a five star hotel. After introductions, they’d received a quick tour. The campsite was small, crammed in tightly between two, one-hundred foot cliffs. Its floor had once been a river bed and Monica vaguely wondered if it was currently prone to flash flooding. It seemed like the campers (residents?) had been here for some time, however, and despite the past two days of near constant downpour, the earth seemed dry. Once the tour was finished, they were directed towards the campfire, given a bowl and a spoon each and had remained there ever since.

“John, I found an extra tent for you,” Aiden called from behind them as he walked. “Jason is putting it up now next to mine.” He moved quickly towards the campfire from the cluster of canvass and nylon tents the group called Canyon City. “Gibson, you can stay with me. Monica and Joy, if it’s okay with you, Jessica said she has plenty of room in her tent.”

Since arriving at Canyon City, Aiden’s entire aura had seemed to lighten. He walked with a bounce in his step and a poorly masked smile in his eyes. It was a look of contentment. It was the look of security. Aiden felt safe here, and if he felt safe here, it had to be the safest place on the planet. He was virtually indestructible, so if he was frightened, some serious shit was happening.

“Aiden, thank you. That sounds fine,” Monica said. She put her licked-clean former bowl of chili down on the ground by her feet and felt a silly grin forming on her face. She couldn’t stop it. Monica couldn’t remember feeling more content, which surprised her. For all intents and purposes, everything had just begun. So much horror had already transpired but undoubtedly more was yet to come. Yet somehow, this place pushed all of that to the background. It was a haven and she let it embrace her warmly.

“Sounds fine,” John agreed. He was putting on a good act, but Monica could tell John was uncomfortable. So far, she’d gathered that all of the residents of Canyon City were like Aiden. They were Super Soldiers, or rather Alien Replicants, and that was the crux of John’s discomfort. He still was not sure what the difference was between the two varieties of super humans, and though Monica understood a little bit, she was confused as well.

Aiden smiled and sat down on a stool-sized flat top boulder across from, but close-by, John. He alternated looking between Monica and John. “I’m sorry,” Aiden said. 

Monica’s brow crinkled. “What for?” she asked, having no idea what he could be sorry about. He had saved their lives, fed them well and given them shelter even after John had tried to hack him into little bits and pieces. Where she came from, that was considered excellent hospitality.

“I haven’t exactly explained much of anything to you. I’m sure it’s very confusing,” he said. “I’ve never been good at saying what I mean out loud.”

“Have you always been telepathic?” Monica asked. She put her elbows on her knees and cupped her face in her hands, leaning in for a good story.

Aiden looked down at the ground, somewhat shy. “Yes, but not like Gibson. In fact, it wasn’t until after I was taken and remade that I really understood who I had been. I just always thought I was good at guessing what people wanted.” He smirked boyishly. Monica thought she saw a glimpse of the man he had been before, the man he still was at least somewhere inside his bionic shell.

“Really good at guessing, I’ll bet,” Monica said.

“Remade? You mean, when you became a Super Soldier?” John asked. Monica turned to look at him, surprised that he would even ask the question. She hadn’t thought he was paying attention. He usually rolled his eyes and nodded along when the conversation turned to the fantastic. Monica knew John believed in Super Soldiers. She also knew he thought they’d been created completely by the US military.

“I told you I’m not a Super Soldier. I’m an Alien --“

“--Alien Replicant, right,” John interrupted. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Call it what you want, but you were created by the government to be some kind of a superior being.”

Aiden shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. What you call a Super Soldier *was* created by the military, conceived by a shadow government of men, most of whom are dead, not simply to be a superior soldier for traditional war, but to be a soldier that could fight the invasion of the ruling Grays while ostensibly appearing as if its creation supported the inevitable colonization. The ruse, the story the men told the aliens, was that the Super Soldier would assist the Grays in preparation for invasion. In exchange for their complicity, the conspirators and their families would be saved. In reality, the humans planned to make the Super Soldier resistant to the virus, which the Grays would use to infect and exterminate mankind. The Super Soldier would be used as a weapon against the aliens themselves. Your friend Knowle Rohrer --“

“You knew Knowle?” John asked. He would deny it, but John’s face gave away a hint of sadness upon hearing his former friend’s name. John had told Monica of the time the two of them had spent in the Marine Corps together. They had been very good friends, ages ago. 

“No, I never met him, but I have heard you speak of him in your mind. He was a Super Solder. One of the first. What would today be called a Level C Hybrid or a Gamma by the new leaders of The Project. At the time, he was the most state of the art technical creation in the universe. It didn’t last long,” Aiden said, stopping. To Monica, he seemed to be appraising them, as if he was trying to figure out how much they believed him and if he was clearly expressing what he was trying to say. 

“What didn’t last long, Aiden? What did they make next?” Monica asked. She suspected what he would say, but wanted to hold herself back and avoid presumptions. Nevertheless, she found that she had moved forward on her log bench, sitting on its edge.

“Not they, but Them,” Aiden said and looked up to the blanket of stars above them. “The Grays discovered the conspirators had plotted against them to stop colonization and sabotage the hybrid program. Because of this and because of one other factor, just before most of the members of the Syndicate were murdered by a rival alien faction, the ruling Grays began a new Hybridization program of their own, in secret.”

Monica felt warmth press against her arm. She looked down to find Joy asleep and leaning against her. She raised her arm and wrapped it around Joy, pulling the girl closer to her, not wanting to end story time just yet, but glad Joy was not awake to hear it. She had witnessed too much of this project firsthand.

“I am a result of that project,” Aiden said. That wasn’t what Monica thought he was going to say. She’d suspected he would say Joy was the end result.

“What was the other factor?” Monica asked. 

Not missing a step, Aiden replied, smiling close-mouthed, “The Super Soldiers were defective.”

“Defective? Seem damn near indestructible if you ask me,” John said, chuffing a little.

“Not indestructible,” Gibson said. They all turned to see him. He hadn’t said a word since dinner, and as Monica was re-learning was normal for Gibson, he had retreated inside himself for much of that. He tended to speak when he had something to say, which was more Monica could say for most people. “They get too close to high concentrations of iron, they die.”

Aiden nodded. “Because the conspirators used alien DNA, the Super Soldiers inherited an alien weakness.”

“An alien weakness? You mean all aliens are allergic to iron?” Monica asked. 

“Not all, but most. The weakness is the reason colonization has taken this long to germinate. The reason the humans were able to convince the Grays to put off colonization was partly due to this. The Grays needed time to create an antidote to fight their allergy, if that’s what you would like to call it. Without it, they cannot set foot on the earth, or at least, not many parts of it. There are some who have immunity and they have been used to do their work,” Aiden said.

“Like the Bounty Hunter,” John said. Aiden nodded.

“Aiden, you said ‘partly due.’ What is the other reason the aliens put off colonization until now?” Monica asked.

“In 1947, an alien scouting party crashed and the humans discovered the alien plans for colonization. Until then, the aliens had never had any intention of making contact with the humans prior to colonization. They realized they could use the humans and their fear to accomplish their goals of creating a vaccine against the iron allergy. But the date of colonization has been set for thousands of years -- or millions depending on which myth you believe. It is an old prophesy from the time when the ancestors of the Grays had first come to this planet,” Aiden said.

This was getting good. Monica had so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin. John saved her from deciding.

“Wait a second, there’s one thing I don’t understand,” John said. “If you were created by the aliens and the Super Soldiers were created by the military, how is it that you seem to be the good guys in this drama and they are the bad guys? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

That wasn’t really the first question Monica would have asked, but it was one she had also wondered about. Ultimately, it was the question that was most immediate to their situation. John wanted to make sure he was really among friends.

“I, and the others here, and many others who are not here, were selected for the hybridization program because of a unique experience we all shared. We had all been abducted and tested on for the original hybrid program, but also, we all had abnormal brain functions during which time our dormant DNA had been switched on.”

“Dormant DNA?” John asked.

“I remember reading Dana’s notes about Gibson in the X-Files,” Monica said, trying to remember from long ago. “She said that Gibson has a kind of remnant or junk DNA that matches DNA found in the alien virus. She said we all have that DNA remnant, but its usually dormant or inactive. In Gibson it was turned on.” Monica looked over at Gibson, wondering if he would add to her half-remembered facts. He remained silent and his facial expression did not change.

“Yes, that’s right,” Aiden continued. “For some of us, switching on our inactive DNA caused our telepathy to become more pronounced. For others, it was the first time they had realized they were telepathic. For all of us, the experience nearly killed us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question,” John said.

“John, he’s saying that what happened to Billy Miles, what happened to Mulder, it happened to him, too. What happened to Knowle was something different. Related, but different,” Monica said.

“Yes, all of us who were to become what I am today were uniquely suited for transformation because essentially, we were already alien. Or, better, we were already equal parts alien and equal parts human. We just needed some tweaking,” Aiden said. “Your friend, Knowle, was never alien.”

“John,” Monica said, tugging on his sleeve lightly to get his full attention, “Aiden and Billy are the genuine product. Knowle was pieced together using alien leftovers. They’re all from the same place, ultimately, but not the same at all,” Monica said, trying to help. John was quiet for a moment, and Monica thought she could see the wheels turning. At least he wasn’t laughing, because she would probably have to kill him if he had been.

“And if we hadn’t stopped it, if Dana hadn’t stopped the virus from progressing, Mulder would have become like you are now, too?” John asked, directing his question to Aiden, who nodded. “That still doesn’t answer the question. It doesn’t explain why both of you, the Super Soldiers and the others like you, switched teams,” John said. Off her look, he asked Monica, “What?”

She hadn’t realized it, but her lips were stretched from ear to ear and she was staring at him. “Nothing,” she said, still grinning, turning back to Aiden. “I don’t quite get that either. When Dana’s son, William, was born, Billy Miles and the others like him watched, even though it had seemed like Billy was trying to kill them both before that. When I delivered the baby -- what?” Aiden had gone completely still and he looked ashen. “What is it?”

Aiden swallowed. “You delivered William? The William? You are the one who brought him into this world?”

“Yes, I was trying to hide them both, to protect them. I assumed you knew that. You know so much about us already,” Monica said.

“I guess I didn’t realize,” Aiden said, still seeming off kilter.

“Why does that matter?”

Aiden swallowed. “Just that William is the answer to your question. He is the reason, or rather a symbolic part of the reason,” he said. 

“I don’t understand,” Monica and John said together.

“That prophesy I spoke of -- William is the key -- the key to everything. He is the reason we are here. He’s the reason those of us at Canyon City *switched teams*,” he said, smiling at John.

Seconds after Aiden stopped speaking, a giant ball of light exploded on the horizon. Before they heard the whir of machinery slashing through the sky, Monica saw the sound's source. Dozens of triangular spacecraft, like the one that had chased them through the desert, zipped over their heads, miles above them, but too close for comfort. Once they were past, the formation climbed straight up and looped around together, reversing their path and heading back towards Canyon City.

“They see us,” Aiden said and the panic erupted from the tents behind them.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Colorado Springs, Colorado

December 22, 2012

4:51 p.m.

Mulder had managed to find all of the items on the list Scully had given him, so he wandered around the store gathering random loose ends such as extra batteries, pocket knives, anything he could find room for that might be useful. Something in his gut told him they shouldn’t stay here very long, but he also knew they needed to be prepared for as much as possible. Life as they knew it had officially ended, even if the reality of it had yet to set in. All of them seemed to be walking around in a daze, somewhere between their past and their future. As far as they knew, they were the only living humans remaining and things they had once taken for granted, such as electricity, running water, gas stations with working pumps, had instantly become precious commodities. The age of twenty-four hour convenience was over, though Mulder did like the idea of never needing money again. At least for the time being, materials were plentiful and demand was low.

Mulder looked up, found himself in between two aisle-long, ten-foot shelves, covered with every type of water bottle he could have imagined. There were bottles of any desirable size, and in every shape and color. The waning afternoon light bounced off of the bottles and danced on the floor in front of him, mesmerizing him. He never wanted to leave. It was stupid, but in this place there still was beauty and nothing else mattered to Mulder. Here he had no obligations and the world wasn’t falling apart. He was accountable to no one.

“Mulder?” a familiar voice asked softly. Scully. She was always there to shake him back into reality, whether he wanted it or not. She was behind him and he turned to face her. She looked pale and her eyes darted back and forth, not quite maintaining eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong, Scully?” he asked, stepping closer to her. They hadn’t had a moment alone since they’d arrived at the Van de Kamp’s house, and though the others were wandering around the store, somehow the cavern of water bottles made him feel like they were the only two people alive. 

She had a back pack slung over her shoulder which she let drop to the floor. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, her eyes fixed on his chest, sounding completely unconvincing. Mulder stepped even closer to her and reached out to touch her, sliding a fingertip over her chin, gently lifting her face up so he could look into her eyes. He gave her what he thought was his best sympathetic look and she softened a bit. “I was talking with William,” she said.

He stayed quiet, knowing there was more, wanting to keep her from closing up. They’d spoken so little in the last few months and though they’d made some progress since leaving Minnesota, there was still so much left unspoken between them. He knew it was foolish, but a part of him had believed things would be easy once they’d found William. In reality, their situation was so much more complicated -- more complicated than he’d ever imagined. They were complete strangers to him and William was a stranger to them. Mulder suspected it was worse for Scully. Mulder had dreamed about William. The boy in his dreams was the same boy who called Rob Van de Kamp dad, but he had been recognizable to Mulder. Scully hadn’t seen William since he had been a baby. To see him nearly into his teens was shocking, somewhat surreal.

“I -- I don’t know what to say to him, Mulder,” she said. “His mother died only yesterday.”

“You’re his mother,” Mulder said, unable to stop himself, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they had escaped from his lips. 

“No, I’m not,” she said and Mulder could see tears forming in her eyes, though she fought them back. 

“He just needs time, Scully,” Mulder said, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and slid her hands over his hips, behind his back, holding him tightly. Mulder felt her shake her head back and forth.

“I don’t think I can do it, Mulder,” she said. “I have no right to tell him who I am. He’s already had so much hurt. I can’t do that to him,” she said, stepping away from Mulder, He held her hand, keeping her closer than she probably wanted, forcing her to stay with him physically and emotionally. “I’m not even sure he knows he was adopted. It would change everything he’s ever known about himself.”

“I’m not so sure he doesn’t already know,” Mulder said.

Scully became very still, slipping her hand from his grasp. “What do you mean? You think he *does* know he was adopted?” Scully asked, though Mulder suspected that wasn’t the question she wanted to ask.

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. I think he knows about us,” Mulder said. He had been dreaming about William for a long time, if one could call them dreams. To Mulder, they had always seemed like video communications in his mind, or reality using metaphor through dreams. From the moment William had stepped through Rob’s bedroom and Mulder had seen him in person for the first time, Mulder had the feeling William had recognized him. Maybe he hadn’t known how at first, but William knew now. Not only that, William could read their minds. 

“How could he know?” Scully asked. She didn’t sound surprised so much as she sounded fearful.

Mulder shrugged. “Just a hunch,” he said. Scully didn’t say anything. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself again, as if she were freezing. Mulder stepped forward, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing downward over her arms. He brought one hand up to caress her cheek, using the backs of his fingers, coaxing her to look at him. “What is it Scully? Did he say something to you?” 

She shook her head, closed her eyes, took in a breath, and nodded. Mulder kissed her forehead, then whispered into her ear softly, trying not to sound demanding. “Tell me.”

He pulled his face back, letting her get her bearings. “He told me a story about his mother. He said his mother had a necklace like mine when he was little,” Scully said.

“I suppose it’s a fairly common-looking necklace. I know the Van de Kamp’s are Christians. I saw a Bible in the bedroom --“ Scully shook her head.

“Mulder, I got the feeling William wasn’t talking about Mrs. Van de Kamp,” she said, smiling nervously, almost bashfully. 

That confirmed it for Mulder. Even Scully suspected William knew who they were. The question now was what do they do about it? Mulder returned Scully’s smile, bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. He pulled back only slightly and rested his forehead against hers. “We’ll figure this out,” he whispered and he kissed her again, lingering there until he felt her pull away.

“First we should leave. Find wherever it is we’re trying to go,” she said, bending down to pick up the backpack she had dropped on the floor. “I’m going to take this to the truck.”

“I’ll round everybody up,” he said. She turned to leave, but he stopped her. He gave her one more, quick kiss and a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Scully.”

“I know,” she said, sadly. “We always do, Mulder.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley,

December 22, 2012

6:31 p.m.

“I thought this place was safe!” Doggett shouted as they ran. 

“Nothing is completely safe,” Aiden shouted back. He ran a few steps ahead of Doggett and the others, leading them along, next to the high canyon walls. “Come on, we have to get to the caves. The geology should protect us.”

“Unless they got one of you to fly that thing for them,” Doggett said. 

Aiden stopped and spun around on his heels, looking at Doggett. Fear crossed over his face momentarily then he shook his head. “They don’t let them fly,” he said. “Would have been smart, though. Don’t you think?” Slowly, a smile spread across Aiden’s face and Doggett couldn’t believe it, but the man winked at him. Doggett felt his own smile grow and the two of them burst out laughing together. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Monica asked, her face screwed halfway between fear and frustration. Her fingers were stuck in her ears, trying to block out some of the drone of the alien fighters, which had so far flown back and forth over them approximately a dozen times, but had yet to actually do anything to them. It was a cat and mouse game and right now the mice scrambled to find a hole. Citizens of Canyon City ran chaotically past them, some fumbled with their few possessions, others simply looked confused, beyond afraid. 

“Why don’t they attack us?” Doggett asked anyone who would answer. He could barely hear his own voice. He wondered how a species so technically advanced that it could fly half way across the galaxy thousands of years before man had harnessed fire couldn’t figure out how to make a muffler for a spaceship. That thought made him laugh even harder.

“What?” Monica shouted. 

“They can’t decide how to do it,” Aiden said, catching his breath and finally controlling his laughter. He pointed to the smooth rock wall behind Doggett as other members of the group ran past him. “But I don’t think it will take them much longer. We have to get everyone inside.” 

Doggett turned around. Chiseled into the canyon wall was a small opening. It didn’t look like a natural cave, but one forcibly made by men. The opening was round and only about four feet high. Men, women and children were darting inside faster than Doggett could blink. Without hesitation, Gibson ran inside. When they didn’t follow, Gibson poked his head out and waved for Monica, Joy and Doggett to follow. Aiden held his hand out, directing them to the cave, trying to wordlessly assure them it was okay, perhaps forgetting for a moment that they could not read his mind. Monica looked at Doggett and he shrugged, looking up into the sky one more time, before nodding. One by one the last of them crawled inside the cave, Doggett last. Behind him, Doggett heard a deep scraping sound and then all of the light was gone.

One second later, all at once, a clicking sound and then the cave was lit again.

“This place is wired?” Doggett asked.

“Not really. Most are battery powered emergency lights, though we do have extra generators that we can hook up later. This is our bomb shelter,” Aiden said, seeming proud. It amused Doggett somewhat that this man made from alien DNA and technology was proud of a network of cheap emergency lights.

“What now?” Doggett asked.

“Oh my God, where’s Joy?” Monica asked. She twisted around, turning in every direction looking for the girl who a moment earlier had been within a foot of her. 

Outside, Doggett heard the alien craft turn for another pass. Even through the walls of the cave, they were louder. “They’re lower,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He was about to help Monica search for Joy, when the ground rumbled and then a thunderous boom permeated through the rock walls from somewhere nearby outside. Doggett had never experienced an earthquake before, but he was sure the ground was about to rip itself in half. Inside, the members of the group exhibited little of the panic he had just witnessed on the way to the cave, completely confusing Doggett, because he was far more afraid now than he had been outside. Something terrible was happening outside, maybe not in the camp, but certainly near it, and he could not believe this cave, made mostly of ancient limestone, would protect them for much longer.

“Have you seen her?” Monica asked, grabbing Doggett’s arm and pulling him from his thoughts. “John? Have you?”

“No, I saw her come inside. She has to be here somewhere,” Doggett said.

“Joy?” Monica called out. 

“Monica, she’s over there. It’s okay,” Aiden said, touching her lightly on the shoulder, directing her to turn around.

In a far corner of the cave barely touched by light was a cluster of Canyon City residents. They stood and sat in a semi-organized circle around something Doggett could not quite see, but he could see Joy. She was on her knees, looking at something or someone. She barely moved, but something held her in rapt attention. Doggett followed Monica to the group. Once close enough, he saw what Joy was looking at. Sitting on a large boulder, tucked into the corner between two red, iron-striped walls, was a man who seemed familiar to Doggett. He was middle-aged, maybe older, thin, with silver hair and kind eyes. He moved his hands calmly as he spoke. The appearance of the group surrounding him and the tone the man used suggested he was telling them a story, a wonderful and calming story by the looks on the faces of the listeners. They all looked slightly dazed, but content.

“Joy?” Monica said, stepping forward. 

Aiden held her back. “Shhh,” he said, softly, without anger. “She’s okay.”

“Who is that guy,” she asked, adjusting her voice to match the quiet of the cave. Outside there were still distant rumblings, but whatever was happening out there was only an after thought now. Whoever this man was, he was hypnotizing all of them, John included.

Not taking his eyes off of the man, Aiden said, “He’s the one who protects us and shows us the way. He is Jeremiah. He is like our father.”

“Jeremiah,” Doggett said, more to himself. After a moment of working it out in his head, he realized he had been right about finding the man familiar. “Monica --“ he started to ask, but he was interrupted by the largest boom they had heard so far. Doggett thought he’d felt the earth lift him up off of his feet for a moment and set him down an inch away. The rumbling continued and it felt vaguely like an enormous massaging chair, vibrating through him in a not entirely unpleasant way. That didn’t last long, however, and soon after the first boom, there was a second. 

And then there was only darkness for all of them.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

William dug the toe of his spiked shoe into the dirt three times and tapped the end of his bat on home plate. A faint, pleasant summer breeze washed over his face as he looked up into the bright blue, cloudless sky and the smell of hot dogs and caramel popcorn hit his nose. He lifted his bat and cocked it. Behind him, the umpire called "play ball" and William turned his head towards the pitcher's mound.

The pitcher wound up, kicked out his leg and let the ball fly, hurling it towards the imaginary box better known as the strike zone. As the pitcher's face became visible, William realized it was the face of his friend, Eric. Vaguely, William registered the sound of leather hitting leather as the ball landed in the catcher's mitt.

"Strike!" the umpire called.

William barely noticed.

"Hey Will! Told ya you can't hit my fastball!" Eric called. William was used to being razzed by Eric, and normally he would have fired something right back at him. That's what you do with your best friend, one-up each other, but standing there in the batter's box after taking the first strike, William couldn't think of a thing to say. Eric was dead. William had seen him. What do you say to your friend when he's dead?

"Come on, Will. Get ready," Eric said. "Or are you scared?" Eric grinned playfully, waggling his eyebrows.

"Let’s go, kid," the umpire said. "Gotta keep this game moving."

Will looked back at the umpire who was spitting sunflower seed shells on the ground. The umpire put his face mask back on and pointed a meaty finger at Eric, letting him know it was okay to throw. 

William shook his head and asked nobody in particular, "Am I dreaming?"

"Of course you're dreaming, kid. Now are you ready to hit or not? I have another game in a couple of hours," the umpire said. “Time doesn’t stand still, you know. Not even for you.”

William brought the bat up again as Eric threw the ball. William swung and missed. Peripherally, he heard Eric laugh as the umpire called strike two. William stepped away from the plate, out of the batter's box.

"Aww, man," Eric said, throwing up his hands and kicking the pitching rubber.

"Come on, son. You can do it," a voice called from somewhere in the crowd behind him. William turned around, looking for his father. He scanned the couple dozen spectators sitting in the bleachers behind home plate. He couldn't find his father, but he saw Mulder sitting next to Dana on the third bleacher row from the top. "Just keep your eye on the ball, Will," Mulder said, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

"Dad?" William asked.

"Just like we practiced," Mulder said, clapping his hands together encouragingly. 

Dana sat beside Mulder, smiling broadly, wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap and clapping as well. "Just make contact, Will," she said.

"I'm not sure I can," William said, more to himself.

"Ump! Time out!" Eric called. 

“Time!” the umpire yelled, throwing both arms up in the air like he was preparing to take flight.

Eric jogged the distance to home plate, and stood in front of William with his hands on his hips, looking at him disapprovingly. "Pull yourself together, man," Eric said.

"Eric, you're the pitcher, I'm the batter. You're not supposed to call time and talk to me," William said in a half-whisper.

"I'm on your side, man, but you've got to snap out of it. Everything depends on you," Eric said, putting a gloved hand on Will's shoulder. 

“What does?” William asked.

Eric grinned. “I don’t want to put pressure on you, man, but pretty much the fate of the world. What’s left of it. Kinda sucks, huh?” Eric said.

“Really sucks,” William pouted and looked down to the ground.

“Come on, Will. Everybody’s waiting,” a smaller voice said. William didn’t recognize this voice, but it sounded like a girl standing right next to him. He shifted his body slightly to the right, standing with his right shoulder to the umpire and the catcher, but not turning his back to Eric. It was the catcher’s voice. She stood up and removed her mask. “We don’t have all day, you know,” the catcher said, sounding like a little sister pestering him.

“Who are you?” William asked a little sharper than he intended, the left side of his face scrunching up. 

“Who am I? Good one, Will. Just hit the ball already,” the catcher said smiling, patting William on the arm with her catcher’s mitt. She was shorter than William, but not by much and had shoulder length blonde hair and bright green eyes.

“Joy’s right, Will. It’s time to put up or shut up,” Eric said.

“I can’t do this alone, Eric,” William said, shaking his head, feeling tears sting his eyes, but fighting them back. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of his best friend and all of these strangers, real or imagined. “I don’t even know what to do.”

“You’re not alone. You have them,” he said soberly, nodding towards the bleachers. William turned to see Mulder and Dana looking at him, both with worry lines across their foreheads. He turned back around to face Eric.

“I barely know them,” he said, trying to sound convincing. 

“You know them. They’ll help you, if you listen to them... if you listen to yourself,” Eric said.

“Hey Will? You okay, buddy?” Mulder called. “Just keep your eye on the ball, and you can do it, son.” 

William looked at Mulder, stretching the moment, and finally nodded.

“And Will, they’ll help you, too,” Eric said. William faced his friend who pointed out towards the field. William hadn’t noticed before, but there were runners on all three bases and suddenly the field was filled with defensive players. As if cued by Eric’s finger, they all raised up their hands to wave back. They were all different ages, a few were younger than he and Eric but the oldest looked like he was in high school. They all wore white baseball pants and a plain white jersey. All of their clothing was devoid of any color.

“How can they help me? Aren’t they just all in my head?” William asked. “Aren’t you?”

Eric laughed. “Will, you have more reality in your head than most people ever experience in their entire lives,” he said. 

“Kid, if you don’t get back in the box now, I’m going to call this game and you’ll have to forfeit,” the umpire said. “What’s it gonna be?”

Eric nodded, smiled at William one last time and trotted back to the pitcher’s mound. Joy pulled her mask back over her face and resumed her squat. William glanced towards Mulder and Dana, who sat on the bench with a mixture of worry and encouragement on their faces. 

“I’m ready,” William said.

“Now we’re talkin’,” the umpire said, pulling his own mask on. “Play ball!”

“Hey, Will!” Eric called. “One more thing.”

“What?” William called back.

“Follow your gut. You’ll know when to take the pitch or to swing. Don’t let the impostors distract you from keeping your eye on the ball,” Eric said.

He wanted to ask Eric what he meant, but the umpire grunted, not hiding his disapproval. William slowly set one foot inside the batter’s box. His other foot followed and he raised his bat back. On the mound, Eric stood sideways, focused on the catcher’s mitt and wound his arm backwards.

The last thing William saw before he awoke was the little white ball sailing towards him.

As he swung the bat, he did not blink.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Washington, D.C.

December 22, 2012

9:01 p.m. EST

“Christian, wake up,” someone whispered, pulling him from sleep the way a ball of cotton is pulled apart. He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking. “I need another sample.”

Christian opened his eyes, blinked. He looked around, saw the familiar sterilized white of his dormitory room. Moments ago, he had been playing baseball. The air was cool and had smelled of cotton candy and pretzels and the sky had been beautiful blue. It had been so long since he’d actually seen the sky, he was not sure if that was the color it was supposed to be anymore. 

Now he only smelled the forced, ventilated air of the laboratory. The only blue he could see was on Tom Davis’ loosened silk tie. 

“Christian, wake up,” Tom said. “You’re the last one for the night.”

Coming back to himself, Christian sat up. “You know you shouldn’t call me that. What if someone heard you?” he said.

Tom forced a smile. Christian knew what Tom wanted to say, but wondered if he actually would. “Nobody’s going to hear me. We’re alone. I just need a quick sample and then you can go back to sleep,” Tom said.

“I know,” Christian said, sticking out his arm, palms up and rolling up his sleeve, exposing the catheter linked to a vein. His arm was pock marked with purple scars and various shades of gray bruises. So much blood had been taken from him that Christian was surprised he had any left to give. Tom removed a syringe from a plastic wrapping and uncapped the needle. Silence stretched out between them as Tom pushed the needle into the catheter and drew back. 

They were often silent in each other’s presence. When Christian would allow Tom into his mind, they would have whole silent conversations. Usually, they would speak of trivial topics. Which baseball team was doing well this year, the latest movie Tom had seen. Occasionally, Tom would let his guard down, and his mind would wander to more serious issues, like how he felt about holding twelve children hostage and using them as lab rats. 

Tom looked at Christian, nervously smiling. “You were dreaming. Baseball again?” he asked. “I don’t think the Nationals have much of a chance this year, I’m afraid. You might want to start rooting for another team.”

“Is there another team?” Christian asked.

Tom’s smile faded. “No, I guess there isn’t.” Tom pulled the needle from the catheter and replaced the syringe’s cap. 

“I was dreaming about baseball, but not about the Nationals,” Christian said.

“Oh?” Tom asked, avoiding eye contact.

Christian reached out with his other hand and grabbed Tom’s arm. He opened his mind, unlocking the door hiding his private thoughts that he normally kept tightly shut. Christian allowed Tom to see the images in his mind of another boy his same age and a game of baseball. He was not completely sure why he did so. It was a compulsion he let take him over. Tom sat silently, like he was in a trance. Suddenly he stood up, shoving Christian’s hand from his arm.

“Why did you show that to me?” Tom demanded. Christian remained seated on his bed. He could sense Tom’s confusion and fear, though Tom appeared angry. “You know who I am!”

Calmly, Christian met his captor’s eyes. “I know who you are. I know who you want to be,” he said. “Do you?”

Quickly, Tom gathered the sample of Christian’s blood and the other items he had brought in with him and walked out of the door to the boy’s bedroom. Christian exhaled, momentarily afraid he had made a terrible mistake. As he heard Tom’s footsteps move quickly down the hall, he relaxed slightly. 

He could hear Tom’s thoughts perfectly. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Southwestern United States

December 22, 2012

7:04 p.m.

The five of them saw the smoke swirling above the canyon almost five miles before being forced to abandon the truck and walk the last half mile on foot, their newly acquired packs slung over their shoulders. Liam assured Mulder that the truck would be safe and that the smoke was probably only the evening campfires.

Mulder hadn’t asked Liam how it was possible that they could see smoke from campfires at seven o’clock at night because Mulder already had an idea. Behind them the black sky was dotted with clear stars and a waning half moon. In front of them, like a force field, a ball of light hovered from the horizon into the air above the canyon walls, giving the illusion that it was only late evening, not a fully formed winter night. Mulder had considered telling Scully to wait with William in the truck while he surveyed what he expected to be a war zone, possibly still entrenched in a battle, but decided against it. They would not necessarily be any safer alone in the desert than they would be in Liam’s camp. At least with Scully and William along, Mulder could keep his eye on them, and Scully could help him keep an eye on Liam. They had come this far together, and they might as well see it through.

On either side of them, natural walls made of sandstone -- more of a brownish tint than the usual reddish one for this part of the country -- jutted up above them. The closer they got to the camp, the more the opening at the top narrowed, creating a cave-like feeling. They were walking on the floor of an ancient river that had carved the stone into a natural fortress. 

They arrived at a manmade stone wall spanning twenty feet, completely blocking their path except for a small opening large enough for a car to drive through, but only barely. The wall was about eight feet high. At the opening there were hinges for a gate, but the wooden gate itself had fallen or been broken off and lay on the ground in the middle of the path. 

“That’s strange,” Liam said. “There’s always someone here standing guard.”

“Maybe they went out for coffee,” Mulder said.

“No, they are not allowed to leave unless someone relieves them,” Liam said, oblivious to Mulder’s sarcasm.

The light Mulder had seen from the distance had died down a little, but now he could see orange flames pushing the smoke higher on the other side of the wall. The smoke was much thicker here and it billowed up in dark charcoal waves. When they’d ditched the truck, they hadn’t been able to smell the stench that assaulted them once they’d arrived at the gate. It was not the smell of a campfire or roasting hot dogs. It was an odor Mulder wished he was unfamiliar with. It was the smell of burning flesh mixed in with a hundred other substances, all of them foul. 

They passed through the opening where the gate had been, and Mulder’s suspicions were confirmed. What wasn’t burning had turned to piles of ash. Shapes that resembled vehicles, pop-up campers, tents, tables, a campfire circle with wooden stools and benches, and people, were scattered for several hundred feet in front of them. All were turned to carbon, most still smoldered. 

“No!” Liam shouted, running towards the still-burning carcass of an RV camper. 

“Oh my God, Mulder,” Scully said, standing with her shoulder touching Mulder’s arm. The four of them stood in a line watching Liam as he ran from pile of ash to pile of ash, from victim to victim, desperately trying to find any sign of life. There was none. Men, women and children had been consumed by some great catastrophe that rivaled the Plague itself, if not in scale then in horror.

“Hello!” Liam called, “Is anyone here? Come out if you’re here! It is Liam. It is safe now.” He was difficult to hear above the sound of the crackling fire. He received no answer after several minutes of frantically calling out. Finally, he collapsed to the ground and sat prone but slumped over, looking at his hands and shaking his head.

“What happened here?” Rob asked, nearly gasping the words. 

“I think the aliens are cleaning house,” Mulder said.

“He said it was safe here,” Rob said.

“I guess he got the wrong memo,” Mulder said soberly. 

“Do you think they’re still here?” Rob asked.

“I hope not,” Mulder said, watching Scully walk over to a body lying on the ground nearby. She bent over, inspecting something Mulder couldn’t make out.

“Mulder, take a look at this,” Scully called.

“Stay here,” Mulder said to Rob. “Keep him here.” Rob nodded and pulled William closer to him. Mulder jogged the short distance to Scully.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Spent shell casings,” Scully said, standing up straight. “The ground is riddled with them.”

“They probably shot them all first then burned the place before they left,” Mulder said, looking around at the evidence. He studied Scully. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring towards a flaming truck, but not really looking, with her brow crinkled. “Is something wrong?”

She let out a breath. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again, looking at Mulder. They both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of Mulder’s question. “This is just weird. We’re in the middle of the desert, and rather than come in here with hundreds of space craft and bomb the place, or whatever weapons they have, they come in on foot, using shotguns?”

Mulder nodded his head in the direction of Liam, who was still sitting on the ground in a daze. “Maybe he knows something,” he said.

“How could he? He’s been with us for days,” Scully said.

“I don’t know,” Mulder said, dropping his shoulders. 

“You were sure there was something to find here,” Scully said, more a statement than a question. Mulder nodded. He had been sure. He hadn’t known what it was, but he’d been sure there was something at this place that would set them on a path, maybe give them a chance to fight back. 

Scully stepped closer to him and put her arms around his waist, giving him a quick hug that he returned. Stepping back, she looked up at him and smiled sorrowfully. 

“Mulder! Dana!” William called. Mulder and Scully turned their heads towards him. He was running and Rob was running after him.

“Will! Come back here!” Rob shouted, but William paid no attention.

William stopped a few feet in front of them, breathing hard. Mulder bent over and put his hand on William’s shoulder. “What is it?

William took another deep gulp of air. “Someone’s here,” he said as Rob caught up to him.

“Will, I told you to stay put,” Rob said, breathing a little harder than William.

“Who’s here?” Mulder asked. “Is someone still alive?”

“He’s watching us,” William whispered.

“Is it someone from Liam’s group?” Mulder asked. William nodded. “A survivor?” William shook his head.

Scully reached behind her and pulled out her gun. She turned around, looking in every direction for anything that looked strange. 

“He’s laughing at you,” William said. “He knows you can’t kill him.”

“Will, quit making things up,” Rob said shakily. 

“Shhh. You should really listen to him more often,” Mulder said, only half paying attention to Rob.

“What the hell does that mean?” Rob asked.

“It means that William knows more about what is happening than you do,” Mulder said, looking around the campsite. Turning his attention to William, Mulder asked, “Can you tell where he is?”

William swallowed. He looked frightened yet determined. William closed his eyes, stood very still. 

“Listen Mulder,” Rob rambled, “I’ve been pretty patient with the two of you, but when it comes to my son, it’s none of your business.”

“Stay quiet!” Mulder said, whispering forcefully. Mulder watched as William attempted to pick up the trail of whoever was spying on them. He looked like he was straining to single out one voice in a crowd of hundreds. Rob continued to rant, but just like William seemed to block out all of the distractions surrounding him, Mulder blocked out everything but William.

“Damn it, Mulder,” Rob shouted, grabbing Mulder by the arm, spinning him around. 

William’s eyes flew open. “He’s coming,” William said, looking towards a burning truck in the distance.

The adults became very quiet and followed William’s gaze. Before they could see anything, they heard heavy crunching of footsteps approaching them. It moved slowly, but steadily, until a man, taller and more broadly framed than Mulder, appeared from within the smoke. He was dressed in blue jeans, tan leather boots and a nylon ski jacket. In his hands he carried a shotgun. He walked towards them, but stopped thirty feet away.

Instinctively, Mulder pushed William behind him and pulled Scully closer. Behind him, Mulder heard footsteps as well. He turned quickly to see Liam standing next to Rob, his eyes grave but alert.

The man in the ski jacket grinned and pumped his shot gun once, still pointing it to the sky.

“Welcome home, Liam. I see your mission was successful after all. We were worried about you,” the man said.

“Warrick?” Liam asked, taking a step forward. Warrick pointed his shotgun at the group. Scully responded by pointing her Glock at him.

“Liam, tell your friend it isn’t nice to point guns at people,” Mulder said. “Someone could get hurt.”

“I could say the same to you. Mulder is it? You’ve gotten old, man. The photos do not do you justice, or maybe it’s the other way around.” Warrick looked pointedly at Scully and pushed out his lower lip in a false pout. “And Dana Scully? Everyone thought both of you were dead, not that it matters. Not that anyone really cared. Have you been hiding all this time?” He laughed. 

“Warrick, put the gun down. Have you gone insane?” Liam asked. “I found William. I found the Serpent King. Quetzalcoatl has returned. Now alien and man can bring in the Fifth Age together.” 

“Sorry *brother*,” Warrick said, mockingly, “but I can’t let that happen. *All* the ages of mankind are coming to an end. If it were up to me, I’d kill all of you, but someone seems to think that kid is important. Good thing I stayed behind, huh? Good thing for me, anyway.”

“You swore an oath!” Liam shouted. “To follow God’s will. To help the aliens bring in a new era of peace with man at their side!”

“The only oath I swore was to the Gray leaders who are finally ending your pathetic race,” Warrick said. The smugness he showed when he first appeared was replaced by pure anger. Liam seemed to have struck a nerve. “Did you honestly believe this silly little cult of yours meant anything to them? You make me sick.” 

Warrick pointed the gun at Liam.

“Put the gun down!” Scully shouted. Before she could finish, Warrick pulled the trigger.

Click!

He tried again.

Click!

“Son of a bitch!” Warrick shouted in frustration. He threw the gun to the ground and stepped forward. Scully pulled the trigger on her gun, emptying the clip perfectly into the center of Warrick’s chest. As each bullet struck, Warrick grimaced, but took another step towards them.

“That still hurts you know,” he said.

“You’re one of them, too,” Liam said, awestruck. Mulder was sure Liam would reach into his back pocket, pull out a notepad and pen and ask the Super Soldier for his autograph. 

“Get back!” Mulder shouted. “Scully, take him and run!”

Warrick continued walking but when he was five feet from them, he stopped. The evil smile he had on his face disappeared and he began to shake from his toes to the top of his head. He looked like he would throw up. The exposed skin on his face and hands began to blacken and a sickening sound resembling a cellophane wrapper being crumpled emanated from the Super Soldier’s body. On his skin, fissures formed and cracked apart. He did not wail in pain, the sound seemed to be stuck within his chest, unable to be shaken from his lungs.

Mulder felt a hand on his back. William stepped from behind him, closing the distance between himself and the Super Soldier. It’s tremors increased in severity. If asked, Mulder would say he could feel the earth shake in response. “Stay back, William,” he said, but William ignored him. He lifted his hand towards the Super Soldier and seconds later, its body erupted into flames. Mulder pulled William back, clutching him tightly.

Finally, the Super Soldier collapsed to the ground. His body continued to burn, but remained still.

“William, my God” Mulder heard Rob say behind him. Mulder pulled William against him even tighter.

Still looking at the body, without any emotion, William spoke.

“Grand slam.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Washington, D.C.

May 2001

She wished the kiss could last forever. There had been too few kisses between them in the first place and this was the first in a long time that was born purely from joy, hope and contentment, with no residue of fear or restlessness. Scully had everything she could hope for, all within the four walls of her bedroom; all within an arm's reach. Even so, a line from a poem she had once read pricked her mind. She pulled away from the kiss, reluctantly, unable to shake the idea that 'nothing gold can stay.' 

Perhaps that was true, but in Mulder’s eyes she saw everything she felt, and in his arms he held their son.

“You should rest, Scully,” Mulder said without censure, still looking at -- mesmerized by -- William, who was wrapped in a blanket, his ten fingers moving without purpose, his eyelids heavy. “I’ve got him.” 

“He’ll need to eat soon,” Scully said. She lightly rubbed the back of her finger over the soft skin of the baby’s face. Even when she touched him she couldn't quite believe it. She was someone's mother.

Mulder whispered, “Oooh, my favorite show.”

“Mulder!” she scolded him insincerely through soft laughter, patting him lightly on his shoulder. He laughed with her, both of them comfortable and relaxed in a way they hadn't ever known together. 

“Go ahead, Scully, lie down,” he said, nodding towards the bed next to them. 

She cocked her head slightly. “Come with me?” she asked. “Let him sleep until it’s time for his feeding.”

“Okay,” he said. He moved to the bassinette and placed William inside. The baby stuck his tongue out, suckling even in his sleep. Scully crawled up on the bed and Mulder crawled over her, careful not to jostle her or put any weight on her. They lay on their sides, both facing the bassinette and their miracle inside of it. Mulder nestled behind Scully, his left arm slung loosely over her hip. He softly rubbed his thumb over her abdomen, now soft and pliant. Her head rested on his right arm and she placed her left hand in his right. 

Maybe nothing gold can stay, but by God, she would try to keep it anyway.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I love you,” she said without hesitation, sounding drowsy to her own ears. The phrase rolled easily off of her tongue. She felt his hand still against her belly, felt him tense. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t answer. “Mulder?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” he sounded choked, like the words had caught in his throat.

“What?” she asked, feeling worry creep up her spine, twisting around to face him.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that to me.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, brow furrowed, slightly defensive. 

He relaxed a little. “It's okay, Scully. I’ve always known it,” he said, twitching his cheek, smiling boyishly. “Almost always. I’m not any better at saying it either.”

She smiled softly and put the palm of her hand to his cheek. “There are probably lots of things we should have said to each other before this point,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss. Pulling back, keeping her hand on his cheek, she said, “Beginning now, let’s agree to act like adults who have a child together rather than kids in junior high school passing notes during study hall.”

“I would give anything to have known you in junior high, Scully,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Mulder, you wouldn’t have said two words to me then,” she said, challenging him. 

“I think it would have been the other way around,” he said. “I’ve seen your mother’s photos, Scully. You were a cheerleader.”

“You saw pictures!” she said, feeling the telltale burn of mortification in her cheeks. “I thought I’d gotten rid of all of the evidence. Didn’t last long, though. I quit after ninth grade.” 

She lifted her head up and held her head in her left hand, her elbow bent and resting on the pillow, still lying on her side. He mirrored her posture. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “The images are permanently etched into my brain. I think they may become useful at a later date. Luckily for you, Frohike can’t download straight from my head, yet.” 

“Don’t be so sure," not lingering on the subject of Frohike for long, "Mulder, this is not exactly what I meant by acting like adults,” she said, trying to sound serious, “Beginning now.”

He nodded. “Beginning now,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to hold back his smile.

Her own smile faded. She grew serious and looked into his eyes, “I do love you, Mulder. Thank you.”

He looked surprised. “What for?”

“Just thank you,” she said, laughing at herself softly. Against her will, a tear blurred her vision. “For William, for the truth, for second chances… for you,” she said.

He wiped away her lone escaped tear with the pad of his thumb. “I love you, too, Scully. Beginning now…” he said looking into her eyes, waiting for them to clear. 

“Beginning now,” she agreed, in nearly a whisper. 

Suddenly, Mulder seemed nervous. He licked his lips and sat up straight, crossing his legs. She pulled herself up gingerly, leaning her back against the headboard, keeping her legs flat in front of her on the bed. Taking her hands, he said, “Scully, I didn’t plan this, but all of a sudden it seems like the right thing to do.”

She pushed back a twinge of fear. She never knew what to expect when Mulder had an idea. It could be the most wonderful, inspired thought ever conjured by man or it could lead to mortal danger, probably with one or both of them landing in the hospital for the thousandth time. Sometimes his ideas were a combination of both extremes. She felt her heart rate increase. “Okay,” she said, taking in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’m listening.”

“Will you marry me?” he said it like it was all one word, but he didn't look away from her eyes.

Her own eyes felt incapable of blinking, like her lids were glued to her eyebrows. 

“Scully? You don’t have to answer me right now,” he said, looking down at their joined hands. “I know it’s sudden.”

“Yes,” she said simply. She felt him exhale and he looked up at her face again.

“Yes?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, it’s sudden, or yes you will?” 

She crinkled her brow, looking at him like he was slightly crazy, but smiling through closed lips. “Yes, I will.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her gently. “Okay, all right.” He nodded and smiled self-consciously, and so did she. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back with him so they rested against the headboard. She tilted her face against his chest, closing her eyes, feeling his heart rate slow down to a reasonable pace. They were getting married. 

Scully tried, but she couldn’t push the poem out of her mind. Nothing gold can stay.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Southwestern United States

December 23, 2012

Dawn

A loose corner of the tent’s rain shield flapped in the early morning wind, waking him. Mulder’s eyes felt sticky from sleep and they were unwilling to admit without a fight that it was time to leave the land of dreams for reality. He turned over to lie on his other side, hoping Scully was still asleep so that he could stay a little longer in the cocoon of the small dome tent he shared with her. It was warm inside, pleasant and he knew that outside the Winter desert air would be frigid. He would pull Scully close to his body and fade back into the ether. 

He reached for her, but got only a cool fist full of sleeping bag.

“Scully?” he asked. He sat up quickly, moving past a contented doze, and into alert in half of a second. He pulled on his shoes and nylon ski jacket and unzipped the tent. Mulder stepped outside, not bothering to close the tent door back up. They’d pitched camp near the truck, a half a mile outside the gates of Liam’s former home. Nobody, not even Liam, wanted to spend the night among the ruins and smoldering graveyard that the place now was. They’d considered driving even further away from it, but it had been late, and no one had any idea where they should go. 

Mulder looked around. The sun was nearly above the horizon and the partly cloudy sky was a mix of orange and purple. Near the tent he shared with Scully was Rob and William’s tent. Liam slept in the truck, since he had been sure he would have his own accommodations with his group. There was no sign that anyone was awake yet. Fifty yards towards the horizon, there was an outcropping of boulders. Sitting on one large boulder was Scully, her back to Mulder, facing the rising sun. He walked towards her.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, her back still to him when he was only a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

Mulder sat down next to her on the same boulder, their shoulders barely touched. He looked out to the infinite landscape. From where they sat, they could see for hundreds of miles and the earth seemed to stretch on forever. But nothing lasts forever.

“You know me,” he said. “I can’t think straight when you’re not around me.”

She laughed softly. “What’s your excuse when I am around you?” 

He chuckled.

They were silent for a moment, watching the sun pop up above the line where sky met earth. She worried her left ring finger, rubbing the skin there with her right thumb and index finger. Mulder doubted she was aware she was doing it.

“Everyone’s still asleep. I’d suggest we wake them soon and get moving if I had any idea where we should go,” he said, trying to fill the silence. “Any thoughts?”

She sighed. “Too many, actually. But not any good ones about where to go,” she said. 

“I’ll take anything you got,” he said, encouraging her. Mulder couldn’t explain it, but he’d felt closer to her each day since the aliens first unleashed the Plague. In the months and years before that, they’d been drifting farther and farther apart, but somehow the last day and a half Mulder had felt like the past ten years had nearly been washed away. He hoped Scully felt the same.

“I was thinking about you and me and William. I was thinking about that first night we had him home after Georgia and the hospital. You asked me to marry you,” she said, sounding almost wistful, not sad.

He shifted on the boulder. “I guess twelve years is a pretty long engagement, isn’t it Scully?” he said. “It might be difficult finding a priest to perform the ceremony. Maybe Liam could do it. He could pronounce us husband and wife in the name of the Serpent King,” he rambled. He knew he was being flippant, but couldn’t stop himself. He’d been caught off guard and wasn't sure where she was going with this line of conversation. Luckily, she didn’t seem angry. 

“I don’t want to get married, Mulder,” she said, not looking at him, still looking out to the vast space in front of them.

“You don’t?”

She sighed. “I did. Part of me still does, but so much has changed.” She said, sounding tired, but not sad.

What she really meant was that they had changed. In truth, he had nearly forgotten he had once proposed to her. That had been a moment of such contentment, of such perfect bliss, that it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It was spontaneous and seemed to fit in with the new life they believed they were beginning. But he wondered if domesticity was ever what they had been meant for. Clearly, it hadn’t worked out that way. It seemed that pure happiness was only a fleeting moment for them, left at the wayside while they fought the good fight and chased after conspiracies. It wasn’t fair, but such was their lot in life and they had accepted it. 

He thought they had. 

The past ten years they’d drifted from each other -- their respective touchstones. Maybe they had convinced themselves they could not have what they wanted, or what they deserved. 

“I love you, Scully,” he said, though it hadn’t been what he wanted to say.

She looked at him, smiled. Her blue eyes reflected the rising sun, nearly blinding him. “I love you too, Mulder,” she said, turning back to watch the last bit of the night fade into the horizon. 

He watched, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley,

December 23, 2012

7:14 am

Her shoulder ached, her neck was stiff and her back screamed. Sleeping on the rock floor of the Canyon City hideout reminded Monica why she rarely went camping and why, when she did, she always brought an air mattress and a battery powered pump. She pulled herself to a sitting position, exhaling a muffled groan in the process. The cave was quiet. The floor was covered with people, most of them still asleep. Someone in a far corner snored lightly. Apparently, even Alien Replicants needed their rest.

The previous night had been terrifying. No one had yet opened the doors to the cave, but during the attack it had sounded and felt like the aliens had dropped the entire US arsenal of bombs on them in a matter of minutes and then scurried onto the next target. The whole thing had lasted less than twenty minutes. Somehow, everyone was present and accounted for. As far as she knew, nobody had so much as a scratch. 

“You’re right, not a scratch,” came a gentle voice from behind her. Monica twisted her body around and looked up for the voice’s source. Jeremiah Smith stood there, smiling warmly. “Though, your John twisted his ankle, but I doubt you’ll get him to admit it.”

“Good morning,” Monica said, still in mild disbelief.

Jeremiah lowered himself to the cave’s floor and crossed his legs to sit. “You’re wondering if I’m the same person you met in Montana all those years ago,” he said in his calm manner. 

Monica nodded. “I thought the aliens had taken you away to kill you,” she said.

“They took me away, but it wasn’t the first time they’d tried to silence me,” he said. “Their trouble was they didn’t want to kill me.”

“Why not?” Monica asked. “You had asked for our protection.”

“Protection from capture, yes, but not from death,” he said and smiled from the corner of his mouth. “I’m somewhat of a rarity among my species.”

“Your species? Then you are an alien?” 

“Yes, but that’s not what we call ourselves, of course.”

“What do you call yourselves?” Monica asked, fascinated.

“It depends on whom you ask. Among ourselves, we have a name, but I cannot pronounce it in this form."

“This form? You mean, human form?”

Jeremiah nodded. Expressionless, he said, “Those of my race who rule collectively call themselves your God.”

“But not you,” Monica said. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Much like the human race, we also fight among ourselves and disagree about our role in the universe,” he said. “I, like many others, don’t believe any race, whether more powerful or not, has the right to exterminate another, even if they did give that race life.” 

“Are you God?” Monica asked, not sure what she hoped the answer would be.

“How do you define God? If I go to a place that has never seen life, and pieces of my genetic material are left behind, if some years later a new form of life evolves from that, am I that lifeform’s God? I am essentially its creator, but what of my creator?”

“Are you saying that mankind evolved from aliens, but that a more powerful God does exist?”

Jeremiah did not answer, but he raised his eyebrows slightly. Monica felt a heavy silence fill the space. She had never been particularly religious herself. She always thought of herself as open to anything, but never committed to any one particular dogma. If what Jeremiah Smith was saying was true, and she had no reason to doubt him, then she had just learned the answers to the questions man has been asking since he first became self-aware. Who am I and where did I come from? 

“I thought that was you talking,” John said, his voice still froggy from sleep. Jeremiah and Monica looked up to see him. He scratched his head and yawned. “I still can’t believe I fell asleep at all.”

Monica stood up, noticing that John was leaning a little more heavily on his left foot, but she did not mention it. Jeremiah stood, too. 

“Do you suppose they’re gone for good,” John asked.

“They’re gone for now,” Jeremiah answered. “I think its safe enough to leave the cave. But as long as you are here, they will probably return.”

“Why us?” John asked. 

“You’re human. They’re only looking for you right now. They’ll deal with us later,” he said. “For now, that is the plan. They fear they may still need us.”

“So, me, Monica, Joy and Gibson are the only people the aliens care about here?” John said, flippantly. “Seems like a hell of a lot of trouble for just four small human beings.”

“Two, actually,” Jeremiah said. “Gibson and Joy are essentially the same as Aiden and the others. Not exactly alike, but close enough for the Grays.”

“Jeremiah, you said that you are a rarity among your species,” Monica said. Jeremiah nodded. “What did you mean?”

“Most of my people are deathly allergic to high concentrations of iron, or certain compounds of iron. I am not. Its one of the reasons I’ve been among humans for so long. I was sent to be studied and to do the work of those who could not.”

More and more, the cave was filling with voices and the sounds of movement as the inhabitants slowly woke up. Monica glanced over to the spot where Joy and Gibson had passed out. Joy was still sound asleep, but Gibson was sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

Jeremiah placed his hand on Monica’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “There will be time to answer all of your questions later. Right now, we have a camp to clean up. It’s a new day.”

He walked away, saying good morning to people as he passed them. 

“It is a new day. That’s what worries me,” John said, shifting his weight and grimacing noticeably. 

“Let’s start this day with you getting off that foot,” Monica said, putting her hand on John’s shoulder and guiding him to the ground.

“Monica, my foot is fine,” he said, but Monica put two fingers to his lips, stopping him from saying more. 

“It’s a new day, John. Let’s take advantage of it.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Southwestern, United States

December 23, 2012

11:39 am

All Scully could think about was the Super Soldier; more specifically, about what had killed him. The five of them had been wandering around their makeshift campsite for the better part of the morning, finding insignificant tasks to keep themselves busy, but hardly speaking to one another at all. Mulder had brought them to this place hoping to find something that would put them on a path to action. They had found something, but not the answers to any of their questions. 

She walked alone, still within sight of the others, picking up small, dry sticks to use for firewood. In her mind, she catalogued the evidence and tried to fill in the gaps. In the past three days, she had seen two dead Super Soldiers that she knew of. One had died right in front of her. In both cases, William had been nearby. If she didn’t know better, she might think that William killed the man Liam had called Warrick, which was a crazy thought. William had not even touched him, and as far as Scully knew, the only thing that could kill a Super Soldier was iron, and lots of it.

Before they arrived, Mulder's theory had been that Liam’s camp would be in a place surrounded by rocks saturated with iron. He believed Liam's camp would be protected from the aliens and the Plague because of it. Scully did not claim to be a geologist, but as far as she could tell, iron-saturated rocks did not describe the current landscape, which had more of a brown tint to it, not the red-paint look she’d seen all those years ago near the home of Albert Hosteen. They were not in Navajo or Hopi Indian territory. They were not in Anasazi country. Not yet.

Scully looked up towards the mid-day sun. It was winter; it couldn’t be any more than fifty degrees, but the sky was clear and blue and the sun felt wonderfully warm. She closed her eyes, basking. If she hadn’t managed to have found some dry ice at the sporting goods store in Colorado Springs, the sun would not have relaxed her as much as it did. Scully wasn’t sure if they would still need it, but without a source to keep the vials cold, her Mesabi Ferrum serum would go bad. It had been three days since she and Mulder had taken an injection and two days since the serum had saved Rob Van de Kamp’s life. There was no way to know if they might still need more of it. There was no way to know if the virus had finished its business, or if it was simply waiting for them to weaken before it had its way with them once and for all.

She thought it strange, but the serum she had spent most of the past decade developing had thus far played a relatively minor role in her mind since Colonization began. Aside from saving Rob, which Scully regarded as very significant, she had nearly forgotten about the stuff. She had developed the serum to stop Colonization. She had failed there, but she had also developed it so that even if Colonization could not be stopped, she could at least save the people she loved. She could find William and save him. 

William hadn’t needed saving after all. Not from the alien virus. William was immune.

This fact, if she could call a theory that she had not yet scientifically proven a fact, gnawed at her. She felt like she was on the cusp of something, but couldn't figure out what. 

She heard the shuffling of shoes on gravel behind her. Scully spun around quickly, still anxious from the previous day's events.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could help,” William said. He had a slightly frightened look on his face, like he thought she might reach for her gun, and that made Scully’s heart ache. “It’s boring over there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the truck and the two little tents. 

“I’d like that, William,” Scully said, smiling, relaxing a little.

“Will.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s Will. Nobody calls me William, except when I’m in trouble anyway. Everyone calls me Will,” he said, not making eye contact with her as he bent down to pick up a few pieces of wood. 

“Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say. That was just one more thing she didn’t know about him. When she’d named him, she had always intended to call him Will. Her father and Mulder’s father had both been Bill. She wanted to give her son his own identity, at least as much as possible while naming him after someone else. Somehow, 'William' had always rolled off her tongue more easily. Sometimes she’d called him Willy, but imagined that would eventually transition into Will as he grew up.

“Mulder calls you Scully,” he said, matter of factly. 

“Yes, he does. It’s an old habit,” she said.

“From when you were FBI agents?” William asked.

“How did you know about that?” 

William shrugged and there was a long pause as he bent down, picked up another stick, inspected it and threw it aside. He stood back up and met her eyes. “You’re my mother, aren’t you?” He was not accusatory. He did not speak with much emotion at all, though Scully barely noticed. She was too busy dropping the cluster of sticks she had gathered and staring at him with her mouth gaping open.

William filled the silence. “I know I'm right. I don’t totally get it, but I know it’s true. I hear it in your head. He’s my father, too. Isn’t he? You’re my real parents.”

Scully felt frozen. She tried to work her tongue, to say something, but from between her brain and her mouth, the words got lost. She found herself trying to think of a way to hide the truth, like the kind of lie you tell a child when you want to protect him from danger. *The dog’s not dead, she’s only sleeping.* It was her instinct to shield him from the truth, which had a certain irony to it considering the quest she and Mulder had been on for a lifetime. Finally, once the circuits reformed in her mind, and her tongue could move, she said the only thing she could say.

“Yes, I am your mother. Mulder is your father. You are our son.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Rob had been ignoring Mulder all day long. Both men busied themselves with semi-useful tasks, like taking inventory of the water supply and counting extra tent stakes. Occasionally, when they would cross each other's path, Rob would grumble and Mulder would move aside. Since nobody yet had any reasonable idea about what the group should do next, and since Mulder and Rob had run out of items to count, gather or fix, both of them, along with Liam, sat near the little fire they'd built, each as far from the other as they could be and still be in a circle. Mulder whittled a stick to a point with a pocket knife he'd liberated from the sporting goods store in Colorado Springs, Liam stared into the flames, and Rob poked a stick into the fire in between glances over his shoulder to check on William. William sat on a boulder next to Scully. They'd been talking for a while, but they were too far away for either Rob or Mulder to hear what the conversation was about.

"They're just talking," Mulder said, sounding like a whiney teenager even to himself. 

"I know that," Rob said, creasing his forehead, and twisting back around to face the fire. 

"She's not going to hurt him," Mulder said, not able to help himself. He liked Rob. He really did, but the past day the man had been like a pebble in Mulder's shoe, grating, impossible to shake loose.

"I know that, too," Rob said, sounding equally petulant. Mulder got the feeling that Rob felt the same way about him.

The three men were quiet for several minutes. Finally, Rob broke the lull.

"Mulder? Can I ask you something?" Rob asked. 

Mulder lifted his head up and nodded. "Sure."

"How did that guy know who you and Dana were? The man from yesterday? He said something about your pictures."

Mulder lifted his shoulders and took in a quick breath, releasing it just as quickly. "I guess you could say Scully and I were fairly well known in some circles."

"Well known? I thought you were FBI agents. Aren't you supposed to be low-key or something?"

"You would think," Mulder said.

"Look," Rob said, putting the stick he was using to poke the red coals buried within the fire down on the ground near his feet. "I think I deserve an answer. I know you're the good guys. I know you're not going to hurt me or William, at least not intentionally, but you're not telling me everything."

"Rob, I've told you everything you've wanted to know. You're just not listening," Mulder said, sighing.

"The hell I'm not. I just wish you'd stop sounding like a lunatic. Like him," he said, jerking a thumb in Liam's direction. Liam looked up, and smirked. He'd been very quiet since Warrick had burst into flames, which relieved everyone.

"At least he has a clue about what's happening, even if he's misguided," Mulder said, raising his voice slightly. "Ask him. Never mind, I'll ask him." Mulder turned to face Liam. "Your pal, the guy who eats bullets for dinner, he's an alien, right? Tell him," Mulder said, swinging an arm towards Rob.

"That's essentially true," Liam said, softly. "But I didn't know that until yesterday."

"Essentially true?" Rob asked, mockingly. 

"He was half human and half alien, a hybrid, created to help the aliens bring in the Fifth Age of Man when man and Gray would live together in peace on Earth," Liam said, like he was quoting scripture.

"You wanted me to listen to him?" Rob asked, throwing up his hands. "You want me to believe that not only are there aliens and that is the reason for what's happening, but that the aliens have also created half-human, half-alien creatures to bring an end to mankind?"

"He might have things backwards, but he knows the basics," Mulder said. "How do *you* explain everything that's happened?"

"Mr. Mulder, I'm a simple guy. I went to Sunday school every week when I was growing up, and I took my family to church every Sunday as an adult. I can't say I ever thought I'd live to see it, but," Rob took a deep breath. The incredulousness left him, and his tone sobered, "I think this is Armageddon. It's the end time, the Apocalypse, and God is finally calling the righteous home."

"And you find that easier to believe than aliens?"

Rob sighed and shook his head. "Maybe I don't. But maybe I want to believe it, because otherwise none of this makes sense and my Susan dying was meaningless." 

Mulder bit on the inside of his lower lip. "Rob, I'm sorry about your wife. I really am."

Rob nodded and looked up, smiling joylessly. "Me too," he said, taking in a shaky deep breath. "What about you two?"

"Hmm?"

"You and Dana. What's your story?"

Mulder laughed. He should have written a novel. Even then, he'd never be able to do justice to reality. "Well, you know, the normal story, I guess. Met at the FBI when she was assigned, unknowingly, to spy on me for a group of men involved in a conspiracy with aliens against humanity, fell in love, had a kid, became fugitives from justice after trying to expose said conspiracy and met up with all of you during the pre-determined time of alien Colonization. The normal boy meets girl story." Mulder laughed, lost in his own summation of Scully and his life together, not realizing what he'd just said.

"A son or a daughter?" Rob asked, smiling with Mulder.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have a son or a daughter? You said you had a kid, so..."

"Oh," Mulder said, his smile fading. Oops. "We have a son."

Rob looked down and Mulder knew what question was on his mind.

"I know in my heart he's doing just fine," Mulder said, answering before Rob could ask.

Rob seemed satisfied with that answer, perhaps not wanting to press Mulder on his son's probable fate, one that was likely very similar to Susan's. "I'm sure you're right. Well, I guess I'll make myself useful and whip us all up some sandwiches." Rob slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up.

"Need a hand?" Mulder asked.

"No, thanks. It'll give me something to do," Rob said. He walked back around the truck, out of Mulder's view. 

Mulder turned his head towards Liam. "So, know any good jokes?"

"Aside from the one played on me?" Liam said. Mulder was surprised. It was the first normal sounding sentence he'd heard from the man since they'd met. Not very funny, but normal.

"You really didn't know your friend was a Super Soldier, did you?" It was more of a statement than a question. Liam simply shook his head.

"Either of them," Liam said. Off Mulder's look, he continued. "The man I traveled with to the Van de Kamp's house was apparently also an alien." Liam lowered his head and cupped his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "I think everything has gone to hell."

"You got that right," Mulder said absently. His thoughts were stuck on Liam's traveling companion. That made two Super Soldiers from Liam's cult who had died; one in William's presence and the other at his house. Mulder hadn't asked, but he'd be willing to bet that William had been near to that one as well when it died, just like he'd been near Warrick. 

That was very interesting.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“My mom and dad told me I was adopted when I was little,” William said. He sat next to Scully on a boulder near the spot where they had been picking up firewood. Her knees felt a little weakened shortly after William had told her he knew she was his mother. Luckily, she’d managed to make it to the boulder before her knees gave out altogether. She listened as William spoke, simultaneously diagnosing herself with mild shock. “Even before they told me, I think I knew.”

William pushed a stone around on the ground with his toe. Scully finally cleared the cobwebs in her mind and asked, “How did you know?”

“I dreamed about you,” he said, like he thought she should know that, but not sounding upset. 

“You dreamed about me?” she asked, sounding desperate to her own ears and feeling tears she did not want sting her dry eyes. William nodded emphatically. 

“I didn’t recognize either of you when I first saw you in my parent's bedroom, but I knew you looked familiar, you know?” he said. “I knew it was true when I heard you inside your head.” William looked down, embarrassed. Like he’d told a secret and was afraid she would laugh at him or scold him. 

“It’s true then? You can read my mind?” Scully asked. She had a sudden flash of another twelve year old boy she’d once known who could read minds. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it sooner, but William reminded her of Gibson Praise. He was quiet, kept inside himself, but wasn’t afraid to call people on the contradictions between what they thought and what they said. He seemed older than his actual age. 

“Yeah, but my dad doesn’t believe me,” William said, finally sounding like the eleven-year old he was.

“I’m sure he just doesn’t understand, William. Sorry… Will,” she said, smiling, trying to sound supportive. 

“I know. Are you and Mulder going to take me away from him now?” William asked, concerned.

“What? No, Will. We just want to make sure you’re safe,” she said, looking away from him, towards the horizon, knowing he could probably hear the half truth in his head, but not sure what else to say. “Besides, it looks like we might all be stuck together for a while now, anyway.”

They were quiet for a few moments. Finally, William spoke. He sounded younger than usual. “You can’t hear my thoughts, can you?”

Scully turned her head towards him, and shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“I always hoped my real parents were like me,” he said, looking at his feet. “Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a freak.” He pronounced ‘freak’ sharply and kicked the stone he’d been toeing away. It rolled to the edge of a cliff and skittered over.

Scully felt like he’d kicked her instead of that rock. She should have been there for him. Maybe she couldn’t read his mind, but she would have believed him. She would have understood, maybe not what he was feeling, but that he was unique. 

“I miss her,” William said. “My mom. I think she would like you.” Scully opened her mouth, but couldn't find any words. She hoped he could pull them from her mind and know how touched she was that he would say such a thing to her. The last thing she wanted was for William to think she wanted to take his mother's place and force herself into the role of his mother. She knew she would need to earn that, if it was even possible. William stood up, twisting around towards the truck. “My dad needs me.” 

“Hey Will? Come over here for a minute,” Rob shouted from behind the truck. William smiled, more of a shy smirk, and then he walked away as Scully watched. 

Mulder passed William on his way towards her. She stood up, taking his outstretched hand, smiling up at him. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern behind his eyes.

"I'm fine. No really, I am, Mulder. I'm good. Will and I just had a good talk," she said.

"About what?" He asked, squeezing her hand gently.

"About his real parents," she said. "About us."

^^^^^^^^^

Washington, DC

December 23, 2012

1:13 pm EST

Tom Davis walked alone down the center of a very deserted Pennsylvania Avenue. It was deserted of life, though the street was far from clear. Stalled cars littered it from curb to curb. Some were empty; their drivers having decided there was no time to waste in traffic. Some cars had become their driver's coffins, and Tom smelled the beginnings of what would become a horrific stench if clean-up crews didn't set to work soon. Empty federal buildings lined the edges of the street from Freedom Plaza at Tom's back to the alabaster Capitol of the former United States of America in front of him. Tom had once loved this view. One of his favorite stories was of President Lincoln insisting, even in the midst of the Civil War, on continuing construction of the Capitol's dome. Now the same Union that Lincoln had fought so hard for, had given his life to preserve, was gone.

Tom passed the Old Post Office, an imposing Victorian-style stone building with a church-like steeple constructed in the last year of the nineteenth century before the federalist architectural trend took complete hold of the city's consciousness. The structure was Washington's first skyscraper, and was still one of the city's tallest buildings. He went inside, and with the building lacking a Parks Service employee to escort him, Tom rode the elevator alone. 

From the top of the tower, Tom could see for miles in every direction. Without modern skyscrapers, the view of the District was unobstructed. To the north, atop a hill stood the National Cathedral. To the south, beyond the Washington Monument, across the Potomac River in Virginia, was the Pentagon. Inside the tower, things felt normal. He imagined it was a Saturday afternoon. There would be few cars on the streets, most Federal employees would be home and most tourists would be on foot, having taken the Metro into town, or having walked from their hotels. 

Though he could fool his eyes, Tom could not fool his mind. The voices of the people that should be on the streets and inside the buildings were silent. He heard the occasional voice of a Colonist facilitator, like himself. He even heard the voice of a human survivor from time to time, but the constant radio chatter he normally experienced was gone. He felt like throwing himself off the tower, and probably would have, if he thought it would do anything to him. It would merely hurt.

He'd been thinking all day about Christian and what the boy had allowed Tom to see from his mind. He'd come downtown to get away from others on the Project. He didn't want to accidentally allow them to hear what was going on inside his mind. He'd become adept at controlling his thoughts, though The Twelve usually cracked their way inside his mind anyway. But it would only take one careless moment, and he would destroy any chance there was of a possible resistance. 

 

The word bounced around inside his mind and was amplified between his ears. He was considering helping a resistance that hadn't even begun. A resistance against his superiors, against those who now held all the power in the world. It was futile. It was insane.

Tom looked out towards the Pentagon again and squinted. He couldn't see it, but he knew that fifty miles away above the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia a ship hovered. He didn't know the English word for it, there really wasn't one, but Tom had been a fan of science fiction when he was younger, so he thought of it as the Mother Ship. That wasn't quite accurate. There were five such circular ships hovering over the United States alone and more than fifty worldwide. They were enormous -- most were more than thirty miles in diameter. Inside all of them were colonists waiting for him to give the go ahead, to tell them that his vaccine was ready and to begin the inoculations protecting them from "ferrum poisoning." 

Inside those ships was God. The Apocalypse was all around him and he'd been granted safe passage into Heaven, yet Tom had decided to convert to a new religion.

The thought made him feel alive again for the first time since he'd lost his humanity. He had made a decision. He was going to stop this invasion from going any further, or die trying.

It would probably be the latter.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


	4. Part Four

PART FOUR

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Southwestern, United States

December 23, 2012

4:48 p.m.

"You want to do what?" Rob nearly shouted.

"I need to take a sample of Will's blood," Scully said. Mulder stood beside her, wanting Rob to understand it was two against one. Three if they counted William.

"What for?" Rob asked. He'd been using a hatchet to chop up pieces of wood into manageable sizes, and he stood in front of them still holding it, waving it as he gestured. Mulder decided that he and Scully had very bad timing.

"I have a theory and I need a sample to test it," Scully answered. She was as calm as Rob was wound up. 

"We're in the middle of no where!" Rob said, swinging the arm with the hatchet wildly, luckily away from them, but a little too dramatic for Mulder's liking.

"I'll just take that," Mulder said, snatching the hatchet from Rob before Rob had a chance to blink. He stood for a moment with his hand still curled around the handle that was no longer there.

"I have the equipment I need for the test I want to perform," Scully said. She and Mulder had discussed this very confrontation a few hours ago, shortly after she had told Mulder that William knew they were his real parents. 

Mulder hadn't been surprised William had figured it out. He had suspected William had known for a while, at least subconsciously. Mulder was surprised William had admitted it, though. The boy had been so withdrawn, especially around Scully. Nevertheless, Mulder felt tremendous relief that everything was finally out in the open. Almost out in the open. Rob still had no idea and Mulder had no clue how to tell him. And if Rob's latest rant about not letting Scully take a little blood sample from William was any indication, when they finally did lay the whole truth on Rob, it wouldn't go well.

"I don't want you to get anywhere near Will with any kind of needle, knife or other weapon," Rob said.

"Dad, she's a doctor," William said, surprising all of the adults for a moment. They didn't know he had been listening, which of course was stupid, Mulder thought, since he could read all of their minds. His ability was the reason Scully had approached Rob about it in the first place. William had volunteered.

"Stay out of this, Will," Rob said.

"But dad, it's my --"

"Will, I want you to go sit over there." Rob swung his arm around and pointed towards the campfire. 

William sighed heavily, clearly frustrated. "You never listen to me," he said as he walked a few feet away to sit next to Liam near the fire. Liam listened to the adults debate each other with about as much interest as one might watch the evening news.

"Rob, this is important. He'll be fine. He wants to do this. Ask him," Mulder said.

It was important. Scully had a theory, and though it was not yet fully formed, there was little time to waste. After a day of having nothing to do, they might finally be on to some kind of a plan. After Scully had told Mulder that William knew who they were, they had swapped ideas and discussed their options. Of course that was after they had held each other, shared a brief kiss, wiped a few happy tears, and laughed. Then Scully had said to Mulder, "There's more."

"Of course there is," Mulder had said without sarcasm.

**She looked up at him, smirking playfully. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened yesterday with Will and the Super Soldier."

"Me too."

"Mulder, as far as we know, only one thing can kill a Super Soldier."

"Iron," he said, nodding.

"Or other compounds of iron, like magnetite."

"Scully," he said, jumping in before she could continue. "I know I told you before we came here that I thought this place would be surrounded by iron deposits, but it looks like I was wrong. Whatever killed that thing wasn't iron. Now don't roll your eyes at me, Scully, but I think it was William." He braced himself internally for her rebuttal.

"Will," she said and the corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to control a smile.

"Excuse me?" Mulder asked, not expecting that to be her response.

"He likes to be called Will, not William," she said, not holding back the full smile anymore. "And I agree with you."

"About what?" He'd forgotten what he'd said when she hadn't disagreed with him and given him a verbal tongue lashing for having an outrageous idea about their son.

"I have a crazy theory of my own here, Mulder," Scully said. 

"I just got chills," he said, his voice was even, without inflection, but his eyes gave him away. He felt like he had stepped back in time for a moment. If he closed his eyes, he might be able to convince himself that they were on a field assignment or in some small town police station. He rarely let her know it, but he loved hearing her theories. Sometimes they were crazy; her need to rationalize, maintain a sense of scientific logic, often took her in the opposite direction from his own intuition, but her ideas were always brilliant and she conveyed them with such confidence, whether she ignored the obvious or not. He tried not to let her know that, however. 

He couldn't be certain, but he thought that she felt that jump to the past, too. She took a deep breath. "I have absolutely no proof, but what if the magnetite injection Jeffrey Spender gave Will when he was a baby increased the amount of iron in his blood? The ER doctor told me that night that the only thing abnormal she could find was an elevated iron level." Her smile faded a little. William's trip to the emergency room had been shortly before Scully had given him up for adoption. She had told Mulder what had happened, but only the cold facts. They'd never discussed the emotions behind the decision that had changed the lives of four of the people in this little band of survivors so drastically. They should have discussed their feelings, but even without verbalizing them, Mulder knew that her decision to give William up had torn Scully apart and wracked her with guilt, just as he was aware that Scully knew a part of him hadn't forgiven her for it. 

"And you think that has something to do with old Warrick spontaneously combusting?" Mulder asked. 

Scully nodded. "What if that magnetite injection altered his blood somehow?"

"How?" he asked, curiously. 

"I don't know, but I think if I can get a sample of his blood, I might be able to figure it out."

"If anyone can figure this out, it's you," Mulder said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. 

"I doubt Rob will agree."

"Who cares?" Mulder asked, sounding a little more petulant than he meant to. 

"Mulder, we have to ask him if it's okay. He's Will's dad. Plus, Will might not want to go through with it. We had a good talk, but I think I still scare him a little. And needles can be scary even for adults," she said, poking Mulder in the arm. 

Okay, so he had a slight needle phobia.

"I don't mind needles," William said, startling both of them. Mulder and Scully jumped in unison and turned around to see William standing a few feet away. "Sorry, I have a bad habit of doing that. I was trying not to listen, but you kept saying my name."

"It's okay, Will. Dana has a bad habit of intentionally traumatizing me," Mulder said, but the joke fell a little flat, and Mulder laughed nervously. "How much did you catch?"

"You can take my blood. Sounds kind of cool," William said. "I'll tell my dad its okay."

"Are you sure? I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," Scully said. 

William shrugged. "No, it's okay. I know what I have to do," he said, a little too cryptically. "Sometimes saving the world makes you bleed." Mulder and Scully looked at him, both unsure how to respond, both slightly shocked and unnerved. Then William's stoic, emotionless face slowly developed a closed mouth grin, which finally became a full-on, toothy smile that would rival the Cheshire Cat. 

Mulder and Scully would be wise not to underestimate this one, their son. After all, he had their own blood running through his veins. God help them all.**

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

William poked a long stick into the flickering embers of the campfire. He sat alone. Liam had gone off somewhere by himself. William could hear him, but paid little attention. His dad, Mulder and Dana had stopped arguing a few minutes earlier; all retreating to their own corners, licking their wounds, with his dad winning that round. William had made up his mind that he was going to let Dana do what she needed to do regardless of his dad's wishes. He wanted to face his destiny. He wasn't sure what Dana would find, and part of him was afraid to find it, but like it or not, he was special and it was time to stop being a baby and quit hiding from the truth. 

He just wished he could make his dad understand.

"Careful with that stick, Will. Don't hurt yourself," his dad said, startling him. It wasn't often someone sneaked up on William, but he found the fire mesmerizing and he had relaxed, losing himself in the flames, shutting out the rest of the world. This must be what normal people hear, or don't hear, he thought.

"I'm not a baby," William said, sounding a little like one in spite of himself. 

His dad sighed and William could hear the remorse in his father's head. "I know you're not, son. Sometimes I forget just how big you're getting. I still think of you as my baby boy." Rob sat down next to William, but William did not look up. "And with all that's happened… your mom and everything. I guess I just get scared that I will lose you."

"I miss her, too," William said. His dad put his arm around him for a brief one-armed hug and then pulled back, thinking that William might not like the contact. William felt guilty. He knew his dad had been confused about his behavior, not just during the past few days, but over the past few months, even years. Since William had begun having his dreams, which he now believed had been the truth embedded within his imagination, he'd changed. He'd tried to tell his parents about the dreams, really tell them, but he knew they would not understand. Worse, he thought they might think he was crazy. He'd withdrawn from his mom and dad, but he still loved them. Even if his dad *was* being an ass about letting Dana draw his blood. "I miss her, dad, but Dana and Mulder just want to help. I'm going to let her do the test."

"What did they say to you?" his father asked sternly.

"Nothing that I didn't already know," William said. "You can't protect me from who I am."

His dad crinkled his brow. William sensed the confusion in his father's mind. "You're my son. As long as that's the case, I will do everything I can to protect you."

William heard something else in his father's mind. He was getting quite adept at pushing away the guilt he usually felt at invading a person's private thoughts, but this thought caught William off-guard. "You're planning on running away?"

His father's eyes widened and William knew he was right. "How did you guess?"

"How many times can I tell you? Dana and Mulder believe me. I know you know what I'm talking about. We can't leave them. We can't!" William said, standing up and throwing the stick into the fire completely, sending up a little burst of sparks. 

"Will, I don't think it's safe for us to be with them any longer. Besides, I thought--"

"I know what you're thinking even when you don't. They understand that. I'm not a normal kid and I'm not your son!"

William ran away past the truck, towards the outcropping of boulders where he and Dana had talked earlier. 

"Will! Come back here," he heard his father shout. He was still within view of his dad, but he needed to be away from him. As soon as the words had left his mouth, William felt guilt rise up his throat like bile. Sometimes he wished everyone else could read his mind. Things would be so much easier and he would never have to apologize. He slumped down against the boulder, sitting on the cold dirt, his back to the fire and his father. What was he going to do now? How could he do what he needed to do when his dad refused to understand who he was and what he was capable of? True, he was only beginning to admit the full scope of his abilities to himself, but he was only a kid. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest, crossed his arms over them, and put his head down. At least if he couldn't keep himself from crying, he could keep anyone else from seeing his tears.

^^^^^^^

"What was that about?" Mulder asked, watching William run away from Rob. "What did you say to him?"

"Mulder, can't you just mind your own business for once?" Rob said, sounding tired. "I need to talk to my son." Rob started towards William, but Mulder grabbed his arm.

"Just let him cool down. He's okay. We can see him from here." Rob didn't even protest. He sighed and slumped back down, sitting on a rock they'd been using as a campfire stool. Mulder sat, too. The two men sat silently for a moment and Mulder wondered what William had told Rob. He'd heard William say something to the effect that he was not Rob's son, but hadn't heard anything else. Mulder wondered if William had told his father who their two crazy traveling companions actually were, and he found himself hoping William had. 

Rob inhaled deeply and let his breath out quickly. "Will's adopted," Rob said simply.

"Oh?" Mulder said, hoping he sounded casual even though his entire body had frozen, and hoping Rob would continue.

"Yeah. He's known about it for most of his life and it's never really been an issue. I don't know if it's just the stress of losing his mother, or of everything that's going on, but I think it's bothering him right now," Rob said. He was looking at the ground. He sat slumped over with his elbows on his knees and his face cradled in his hands. 

"Why do you think it's bothering him now in particular?"

"I don't know. Just something he said," Rob said, looking defeated. He was quiet for a moment, and Mulder thought Rob had said all he was going to say. "Susan and I were so happy when they brought him to us."

Mulder blinked, his eyes shifted nervously between Rob and the fire and his own feet. He wondered if it was possible to hyperventilate from overly exerting one's eyeballs. He'd wondered before, but suddenly the need to know everything about William's childhood overwhelmed him. He wanted to know every detail, and yet he wanted to know nothing at all. He didn't want it to be another man telling him about his son's life. Another man who didn't know who Mulder was. Rather than tell that to Rob, Mulder stayed silent. 

"We'd been trying for years but nothing worked. So, we decided on adoption, but even that didn't seem to be working out. We were ready to give up and withdraw our names from the list when we got the call. It all happened so suddenly. Less than a week after the social worker called us, they brought him to our door. He was perfect, everything we had hoped for. Mulder, are you okay?" 

Rob was staring at him and Mulder felt moisture around his eyes. He hadn't realized, but he was crying. He wiped his eyes with his fingers and dried them on his jeans. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is it dry out here? It seems dry," he deflected. Part of him wanted to ask Rob to wait for Scully. They should hear this together. Another more selfish part of him wanted this moment just for himself. Scully had been the one to send William to the Van de Kamps. Maybe if he listened to Rob's story, Mulder might gain the semblance of control he always wished he'd had over the circumstances of William's adoption. "Go on." 

"I'm sorry. If this is too hard for you. I mean, your son --" Rob said. 

Mulder shook his head. "No, it's okay. I think I just got an ash in my eye, or something." Rob smirked, but he seemed to accept that for an answer, probably just to let Mulder off the hook and not press him about something he didn't want to talk about. "Did you ever know anything about his birth parents? Did you ever meet them?" It seemed like a logical next question for two strangers who did not share the same son. 

"No. We were just told that his mother was single and couldn't take care of him." Rob laughed softly. "I remember Susan was so worried there might be something wrong with him."

"Why?"

"There was some question about his medical history, but the funny thing is, I don't think there's ever been a healthier kid than Will. Even when he'd hurt himself playing he always healed amazingly fast. I think she just had the jitters about being a new mom." Rob's voice hitched a little on the word "mom." He coughed, clearing his throat. "What kind of test does she want to do?"

"Excuse me?" Mulder asked, momentarily forgetting where he was, still trying to picture William as a baby, experiencing his first tooth, his first steps, his first words. "Oh, the test. I'm not exactly sure. She's the scientist. I do know that I trust her. I know that she would never want to hurt Will."

Rob let out a breath and lowered his head, tucking his chin into his chest and raising his hand to his forehead like it hurt. "Okay, I'll think about it. There's no hurry is there?" 

"I guess that depends on what she finds."

^^^^^^^^^^

"We keep meeting here," Scully said, trying to sound light.

William looked up, his arms were still crossed over his knees. His brow was knotted and he wiped his eyes, looking away from her, embarrassed.

Seeing his tears, Scully asked, "Are you okay, sweetie?" She bent down to a squat and touched his shoulder.

"Fine," he sniffed.

"I see." She sat down next to William on the hard dirt ground. William kept his face turned away from her and didn't speak. Scully wanted to comfort him, but was unsure how. She still barely knew him. "Well, I'm here if you want to talk." She pulled her knees up to her chest, and crossed her arms over them, copying William's position. 

Her mind drifted to a time when she had been hurting when she was a child. She had been playing in the woods with her brothers, shooting at sticks and tin cans with a pellet gun. They'd found a snake and her shot had killed it, filling her with horrible guilt and remorse. She'd been inconsolable for days, but her mother had tried to comfort her. She had told her that there were consequences for her actions and that she had responsibility in life, but most of all she had told her she loved her and was there to listen. Scully wished her mother was here now to help her help her son. She wondered if her mother was even alive.

"Did you used to sing to me?" 

"What?"

"I think I remember you singing, but I'm not sure if it's from real life or the dreams," William said, his voice slightly scratchy, but his eyes had cleared. 

"I used to sing to you every now and then," Scully said. "Not very well, though."

William smiled and Scully felt like she'd been rewarded with a million dollars in pure gold. 

"What were your dreams about?" Scully asked self indulgently, and William's smile faded. She wanted to kick herself.

"Lots of things. You and Mulder. What's happening. The others."

"What others?"

"Other kids. I don't know all their names," he said, shaking his head. "They told me they would help, but I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

"What don't you want to do, Will? If you mean the test, you don't have to. I don't want to hurt you."

"No! I have to. I don't want to but I have to. So do you," he said.

"I don't understand," Scully said, feeling more than a little concerned.

"I know where we need to go," he said standing up. "There are others. I know where they are." William kicked a stone with his foot, just as he had earlier, but this time instead of falling off the edge of the cliff, the stone shot straight out and stopped, suspended in the air, completely still. William twisted his upper body around and looked at her, not surprised by what he had done. She couldn't look away from the stone, but just as quickly as it had moved when he'd kicked it, the stone fell straight down into the canyon below. 

She looked at William. She was aware of her mouth gaping open, but she couldn't seem to close it. "They need us," he said. Then he held out his hand to her. 

She took it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 23, 2012

4:02 p.m.

Monica felt filthy. Today was clean-up day and she'd spent most of it helping the rest of Canyon City clean up after the alien bombardment. Monica was sure that a layer of soot an inch thick was coating her skin. Surprisingly, when they'd arrived the previous day, she'd been able to take a shower. The people here had organized an amazing camp, complete with an area for taking generator powered and heated water showers. But that was now a distant memory. 

What was also surprising was that the camp was not in as bad a shape as they'd all expected. Several campers and RV's were burned out and the biggest tragedy had been the loss of the shower area, but all in all, they'd been lucky. Most of the residents would probably have to sleep in the caves from now on, but they had a well stocked cache of blankets and sleeping bags and other extra supplies. Not a single person had lost their life, which was a true miracle. Though Monica wondered just how many people here could die. She suspected only herself, John and Gibson were so easily killed.

She carried a load of rubble to an area at the edge of the encampment where everyone was depositing debris. Sitting on the ground with their legs crossed away from the commotion of the cleanup effort were Joy, Gibson, Aiden and Jeremiah Smith. They all had their eyes closed, and didn't speak at all. Not verbally, anyway. Monica hesitated, not wanting to interrupt them, but too curious to stop herself. She dropped her load of burned camper siding, brushed her hands off on her jeans and walked over to them.

When she was a few feet away, Jeremiah opened one eye and smiled. "We were just talking about you," he said in his typically mild, fatherly manner.

"Oh?"

He opened both eyes and the other three followed suit. Jeremiah nodded. "Joy was telling me about your time with her. How you helped her escape from the laboratory."

Monica looked down, her shoulders slumped. "I had some help," she said.

"Joy doesn't blame you for her mother's death. You need to let your guilt go," he said.

Monica tensed, looking nervously to Joy. She didn't want to discuss Pattie's death in front of Joy and upset her. Jeremiah smiled sympathetically, and waved his hand over the ground near him, indicating he wanted her to sit. "Please." Monica complied and lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs Indian style and fidgeting. "I know it makes you uncomfortable to discuss it, but it wouldn't matter if we walked to the other end of the camp to talk. Joy would still be able to hear us. She's very gifted."

"I guess you're right," Monica said. "My natural instinct is to protect her." Monica looked to Joy, who smiled with closed lips. To Joy, she said, "And you've been so quiet, sweetie. I'm not sure what you're thinking most of the time. I don't have your abilities." 

Joy turned her head to Jeremiah, who looked at her and nodded. "She wants you to know that she's not ready to speak yet, but that she is thankful for everything you've done and that she is not as fragile as you think she is."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Monica said. "So, what were the four of you talking about?"

"We were trying to figure out what to do next," Gibson said.

"There are other survivors," Aiden said.

"Other survivors? You mean survivors of the Plague?" Monica asked. "How many do you think there are?"

Jeremiah closed his eyes, and leaned his head back slightly, lifting his face upwards like he was basking in the sun. He inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly. "Thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. Maybe millions." He opened his eyes, looking at Monica.

"That's quite a range," Monica said.

"They said the Plague would infect and kill ninety percent of the population. From that number, the Grays have been executing millions per day," Aiden said. "They send search and destroy parties out like the one that came here yesterday."

"Is there anything we can do? How can we possibly fight this?" Monica asked.

"All is not yet lost. You almost succeeded in stopping Colonization when you rescued Joy," Jeremiah said. "Didn't you know that?" Monica shook her head, confused. "Without her and the other children like her, the Grays could not set one foot on the earth."

"But you are a Gray, aren't you?"

"He doesn't have an iron allergy. There aren't many like him," Gibson said. "Monica, they told me that the experiments on Joy involved creating a vaccine that allowed the Grays to inoculate themselves from the allergy. Without the twelve Level A Hybrids like Joy, the Grays will die here."

Monica stood up. "I don't believe this. I was there. I should have tried harder to rescue all of the children. This is my fault," she said, throwing her hands up in the air and walking a few steps away from the rest of them. 

"You couldn't have known. You did the best you could do," Gibson said. "You did more than most people."

"This Colonization has been planned for a very long time," Jeremiah said, standing up. "I don't think anything would have prevented the Plague from being unleashed. It just might have taken longer for the Grays to actually set foot on earth. They have convinced themselves they are your God. That kind of hubris is not easily stopped."

"Then it is hopeless," Monica said, possibly for the first time completely feeling the weight of what had happened. 

"It's not hopeless. There is one who may be able to stop it all. That is what we are doing here now," Jeremiah said.

"I don't understand," Monica said.

"We are trying to send a message and find the boy called William."

^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kayenta Valley

December 23, 2012

6:13 pm

He would give anything in the world for some ice. Doggett's ankle had swelled up to the size of a small cantaloupe and had become increasingly stiff as the day had progressed. He couldn't even remember how he had hurt himself and that's what pissed him off the most. He felt useless. He wanted to help with the clean up, wanted to do something to keep his mind occupied, but he eventually had to admit defeat and give his ankle a rest.

Sort of. Maybe he couldn't carry heavy objects but he could try to fix a water pump. Monica had been looking longingly at the demolished shower all day, so he thought he might be able to provide her some comfort. 

"John, I told you to stay off that foot," Monica said from behind him.

He turned around gimpishly on one foot. "Monica, I said I'm fine. Stop being such a mother hen." She barely seemed like she'd heard him, and the color in her face had drained out. "Monica, you look sick. Are you okay yourself?"

"Yeah," she said, shook her head. "No, not really," she admitted, still dazed.

"What's wrong?" Doggett asked, putting one hand on her shoulder and lifting her chin up with the fingertips of his other. He felt his heart racing as if a starting gun had just fired.

She smiled and her eyes cleared. "I’m not sick, John. I’m okay physically. It's you I'm worried about. Sit down and I'll tell you what I just learned." She guided him towards a large, overturned plastic bucket, forcing him to sit. He wanted to object, but his ankle wouldn't allow him to make an escape.

Monica knelt on the ground and cupped the heel of his injured foot. She untied his bootlace and gently pulled the boot off, taking his sock with it. 

"Monica, really," he protested.

"Shh," she said, smoothing her hand over his ankle, pushing up his pant leg. She pressed her thumb gently over a large, red and puffy spot on his ankle.

"Ouch!" he said, flinching, unable to help it.

"Sorry."

"Monica, you're great at many things, but you're no doctor," he teased, partly to deflect the tingling sensation her massage was generating in his stomach. It wasn't working.

"God, you're right about that. You know, John, you should have Jeremiah take a look at this. He's brought people back from the dead. I doubt a sprained ankle will be much trouble for him," she said, her hands continued to lightly rub the skin from his ankle to his lower calf.

"Monica, there was never any proof he raised anyone from the dead," Doggett said, barely hearing himself speak. He focused mostly on her hands, though he did hear the soft chuffing noise she made. "What?"

Monica shook her head. "Nothing, but I just heard something that might turn even you into a believer, John."

"Monica," he started, stopped. He took a small breath, organizing his words. "Just so you don't think I'm a completely blinded, close-minded ass, I do believe he's an alien."

Monica looked up at him, wide-eyed, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?"

"I can't help it. It's not very often I get to hear John Doggett admit to the existence of aliens *and* I meet God all on the same day."

"I don't follow," he said, feeling a knot form above the bridge of his nose.

"I'll explain later. What I want to tell you now is even bigger than that, at least in the near term."

She rolled his pant leg back down, but left his sock off. He felt a little sad at the loss of contact. Monica stood up and dusted off her jeans. She sat down again near him on the stone ring which circled the water pump, facing him at his level.

"Bigger than meeting God?"

Monica nodded, her face growing serious, but still maintaining a faint glow of awe. To Doggett she looked slightly stoned. "They just contacted William," she said, pointing in the direction of Aiden, Gibson, Jeremiah Smith and Joy, who all still sat in their circle on the edge of camp.

"William?" he asked, not knowing who she meant at first. Then as it dawned on him, he raised his eyebrows. "William? Mulder and Scully's William? Their son?"

Monica nodded. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Their son William?" he asked again in disbelief. "The son given up for adoption?"

"That's the one," she said. "Far out, isn't it?"

"That's one way to describe it. Monica, first of all, what does William have to do with any of this and second of all, how and why did they contact him, and how do we even know he's alive?"

"That's a third of all," she smiled. 

"I'm serious," Doggett said, irritated.

Monica's expression grew serious again and she looked him in the eye as she touched his forearm. "So am I," she said. He nodded, understanding and willing to listen to her. "It all makes sense, John."

"Oh?"

She stood up and started to pace a few feet in either direction as she spoke. "Yeah. You heard Aiden when I told him I delivered William. He was awestruck. For a moment, I felt like I was the Pope. We had it wrong when he was born. They weren't trying to take him from Dana, they were trying to make sure he was born safely."

"You make it sound like he's Jesus Christ," Doggett said, laughing softly.

"I think he is."

"Monica --"

"I don't mean he's actually Jesus Christ. But I think he might be comparable. I can tell you this, even when he was a baby, he was special. Dana thought something was wrong with him, but I think she was just afraid."

"Afraid of her son?"

Monica became more animated as she spoke. "No, afraid of what his specialness, for lack of a real word, would mean for him. For his life. John, William could move objects with his mind. He was being sought by all sides of this fight. The Super Soldiers, the Alien Replicants like Aiden, the Grays, the Rebels. All of them believe he's the key to something. I think he might be our chance to fight back. Maybe even to win."

"How? He's just a kid. He must be only ten, eleven years old now."

"I think he's like Joy and Gibson, only more somehow. He's the missing link."

"Monica, we don't know where he is, or if he's alive. The Plague --" he started, looking down, lowering his voice.

"He's alive, John. He's on his way here."

Doggett shook his head. "I don't understand," he said slowly, exasperated.

"Joy spoke with him inside her mind. I was just over there with them. William gave her a message."

"What did he say? They're hee-eere?" Doggett said, in a pretty decent imitation of Heather O'Rourke in Poltergeist.

"No. He told her, we're coming."

^^^^^^^^

Southwestern United States

December 24, 2012

3:42 am

He felt her breathing change from the slow and even pace of deep, sated sleep to the moderate and irregular motion of restless wakefulness. His arms were wrapped around her bare body possessively and he tightened his embrace slightly. 

"You're thinking again," Mulder said, breathy and soft, his lips brushing lightly over her ear as he spoke. She'd been thinking earlier, and when he'd asked her what was the matter, rather than telling him, she made love to him, cocooned within the dome of their tent. It was their first time in ages and it felt wonderful, yet he didn't want them to fall back into old patterns.

"How can you tell?" she asked, on the edge of sleep again, her voice drowsy and sedated.

"I can see smoke," he said. Her body shook with her soft laughter, and so did his. He kissed her temple and felt her exhale. "Are you going to make me get a confession out of you, or what?"

"Forced confessions are rarely upheld in court these days," she said playfully. "Besides Mulder, when did you ever get a confession out of anyone?"

He twisted around so that she was on her back and he hovered over her, his face close to hers. "You're changing the subject, Agent Scully," he growled.

Mulder watched her try, but Scully couldn't stop a smile from bubbling up to the surface of her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers roamed through the short hairs at the base of his skull, making him shiver. "I thought we were on this subject," she said, pulling him down for a long, deep, languid kiss. 

"You make a strong argument," he said, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, "but I'm trained in the art of interrogation and diversion techniques. It'll take a bit more than that to flip me."

"Like this?" And then she was over him, straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the sleeping bag-covered tent floor, the top sleeping bag draped over her body. They both laughed out loud. Scully put three fingers softly over Mulder's lips. "Shhh," she said, barely able to say even that between snorts. She leaned down, kissed his neck open-mouthed and his hands wandered over her back. 

She was winning this round.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?" she asked as her lips tugged on his earlobe, then the spot where his jaw met his neck.

"Scully, I think we need to talk," he said, panting, chastising himself, wishing his rational mind would fall off of a cliff and leave him the hell alone for now.

"So talk," she said, between swipes of her tongue over his Adam's apple. "I love your voice."

"I thought you tuned my rambling out most of the time," he gasped, barely able to form a coherent thought.

"Maybe I tuned out *what* you were saying, but I always listened to your voice." She pressed feather light kisses up the underside of his chin, until she met his lips, briefly lingering there before continuing up his cheek and over each eyelid, leaving a wet trail along his face.

"And, I thought you loved me for my mind," he said, not even comprehending what he was saying anymore.

"I love you in spite of your mind," she teased. He smiled, and ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her back to his mouth.

Game over. He could accept defeat if it meant feeling this good.

She placed her elbows on either side of his head, the full length of her body was pressed against his, hot flesh against hot flesh. Their lips and tongues fought for dominance over the other, both taking turns finding it. He twisted them around again, taking control as he gently rocked into her.

"Oh God," she gasped and he felt her fingernails press into the skin of his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. 

"Scully," he exhaled more than spoke. He began to move, slowly at first, then his pace quickened as their mutual need for release grew more urgent. He heard her mumble unintelligible words into his ear and then she was shaking. Moments later, his own climax, starting from somewhere deep in his belly and radiating outward to his toes… his hands… his skull, rushed over him. "Fuck!"

As their breathing slowed, she placed feather light kisses along his brow where his damp hair met his forehead. She massaged his scalp with her fingertips and he rolled to his back, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her body, covering her with the discarded top sleeping bag. They were quiet for several moments and Mulder thought she may have drifted off. 

"I love all of those sophisticated words you learned at Oxford," she said, teasing him for his orgasmic pronouncement, sounding as if her tongue was partially paralyzed.

"You *do* love me for my mind. I knew it."

"Mmmm." He knew she was nearly asleep.

"Good thing we pitched our tent away from the others. I'm not used to censoring myself while in the throws of passion, yet. I wouldn't want to scar Will before he gets to know us better."

"Mulder, Will's telepathic."

"Oh, shit." He knew that. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Washington DC

December 24, 2012

9:12 am

The man, a toothpick firmly lodged between his teeth, stomped down the hallway away from Tom Davis' office towards his own. He was not happy. Davis was supposed to have submitted a report giving the final go ahead on his vaccine at seven-thirty. It was already after nine o'clock and hundreds of thousands of Colonists were waiting for inoculations so that they could begin their arrival on the planet's surface. The Toothpick Man knew it was his ass on the line if anything went wrong. He was responsible for Davis, a fact that had worried him since Davis had come onto the project. There had been too much mutiny already, and although Davis had claimed he was loyal to his makers -- the Grays -- the Toothpick Man had seen too many similarities between his genetically superior subordinate and the other Alien Replicants -- most of whom had sided with the humans -- and the alien traitors such as Jeremiah Smith. 

The Toothpick Man rarely felt anxiety anymore. It was one of many human weaknesses stripped away from him when he'd been made into what he was now. However, if he were not mistaken, anxiety was what he felt. Though Colonization had officially begun on the preordained date of December 22, 2012, the Colonists wanted it completed by the New Year. "Completion" meant the first group of Pilgrims could land on earth safely and most of the human survivors would be eradicated. It was an arbitrary date, but good place to begin the new age. 

His office door had barely stopped shaking from him slamming it shut when there was a strong knock against it, too confident to be Davis. Sometimes he wished he were telepathic like the Level A and B Hybrids. It pissed him off that his own group, the most loyal to the Grays, seemed to be the most defective, while traitors like Davis's kind were almost considered pure Gray by those in power.

"Come!" Toothpick Man growled, removing his tie and throwing it on his desk where it landed softly, not making the impact his mood warranted. He'd be lucky if he had any furniture left when this day finally ended.

Claire threw open the door and walked inside, scowling as much as he was and sounding just as pissed. "I can't find him anywhere. Nobody has seen him since yesterday as far as I can tell."

"God damn it! Send out the troops. I want that son of a bitch back here before noon," he said, smacking his hand down hard on his desk, knocking the telephone off of its cradle.

"They're already out, but the only troops available are Gammas," she said cooly, crossing her arms.

"So?" he said, his arms out wide, using his best intimidation voice and laser stare. It usually turned Davis into a pile of sludge, but seemed to have little effect on Claire. Now she was a Beta Hybrid he could get behind, in more ways than one.

"So," she said, mimicking him, "as you know, Gamma Hybrids are not telepathic and Tom, a Beta Hybrid, is. It's easier for him to hide when he knows where they're looking. Plus he's had at least a twelve hour head start. He's superior in every respect."

She was a bitch, but the Toothpick Man admired her. He gritted his teeth and forced a joyless smile that looked more like a grimace. "There are thousands of Colonists who are superior to *him* floating in the sky above us. Are you telling me *they* can't find him either?" 

"You want me to alert the Gray leaders to the fact that the man who holds the key to their survival on this planet is missing and that you lost him? That the Colonization of earth, an event planned for thousands of years, is in jeopardy because you can't find one man?" She spoke without emotion, her tone was cold.

His smile faded. "No, I don't."

"I thought not," she said, sounding a little too much like she was in charge instead of him. "There is one more thing you should know." 

"And what is that?" he asked, not really caring. The day couldn't get much worse.

"The Twelve, or rather the Eleven… they're missing too."

"Jesus Christ! Why didn't you tell me that when you first came in?" he bellowed. He couldn't stop himself, but he sounded desperate and shrill to his own ears. He definitely felt anxiety. "Where the hell are they?"

"I think they're with him," she said, sounding small for the first time. She lowered her head, losing her smug superior aura and sighed. "Tom freed the children. If we can't find them, we're fucked."

He surprised himself, but he felt laughter bubbling up from deep within his gut, finally spilling over his lips. He inhaled deeply, unable to supply his outburst with enough oxygen to sustain it, yet his hysteria would not subside. He clutched his stomach, bent over his desk.

Claire stared at him with wide eyes and a crinkled brow. "Have you gone completely insane?" That only made him laugh harder. After a moment, he finally caught his breath enough to spit out a complete sentence.

"That, my dear, is an understatement."

^^^^^^^^^^^

Southwestern United States

December 24, 2012

1:33 pm

Mulder stretched his arms high above his head and yawned deeply. He was beat. The rhythmic whir of the gas pump churning, pouring gas into the truck's tank, was putting him to sleep standing up. They'd been on the road since dawn and he hadn't gotten much sleep during the night. He was grateful that the gas station they'd stumbled upon still had power, so they hadn’t needed to perform the siphoning dance they'd perfected. However, ever since the incident with the Snake Man, they'd spent nearly forty-five minutes scouring the surrounding area for surviving strangers before attempting anything like pumping gasoline or replenishing their supplies. And William was never allowed out of sight of at least one adult, not including Liam, at any given time. 

At the moment, Mulder had watch, though Rob was never very far away. William used a squeegee to clean the truck's filthy windows. He seemed to be in better spirits than he had been the previous day or so. He hummed a tune Mulder didn't recognize as he wiped the windows, yet there was still an aura of melancholy that perpetually surrounded him.

"How's the arm?" Mulder asked, nodding to the small Band Aid-covered puncture mark near the inside of William's left elbow.

William shrugged, but smiled. "Barely felt a thing." Rob had finally allowed Scully to draw William's blood, but so far she'd only been able to conduct a quick, relatively unscientific, test. She'd placed a small vial of William's blood near what remained of the dead Super Soldier, which had caused the creature's charred body to shake and smolder once again. But they'd had to leave camp before she was able to do any more detailed testing, so the samples remained in the dry ice coolers with her Mesabi Ferrum serum. 

"You're braver than me," Mulder said as the pump clicked off and he pulled it out of the truck's tank.

 

William looked up at Mulder inquisitively, looking like he wanted to say something, but not sure if he should. Mulder screwed the cap back on the tank and walked a step closer to William. He ruffled the boy's hair and smiled, hoping he looked reassuring rather than worried.

"What's on your mind? Worried about the tests?"

William shook his head. "I -- I was just wondering if you're afraid of the aliens," he said softly, almost whispering, "because of what they did to you? That's why you don't like needles, isn't it?" 

Mulder was a little surprised by the question, but he was learning to expect the unexpected when it came to his son.

"I've never liked needles, but my experience on the alien ship didn't help me get over that fear," he said, deciding to avoid pretense. There was something both unsettling and cathartic about being such an open book to someone, especially a boy as young as William. 

"Are you still afraid?"

Mulder considered carefully for a moment. He had certainly felt something when he'd first seen the ship hovering near the Van de Kamp's house, and it had not been a pleasant sensation. Most of the memories of his abduction came in short flashes or dreamlike fluid swirls, and were more like a feeling than an image. Sometimes he felt afraid, but mostly he felt anger about all that had happened. Not only to him, but to Scully and to his family -- his son. "Yes, but mostly because I want you to be safe."

"I'm safer than you are," William said. "They won't hurt me. At least not yet."

"At the place we're going, do they want to hurt us?" Mulder asked, alarmed. William had been able to tell them very few details about where he was directing them to go. The previous evening William had told Scully and Mulder that there was a group of survivors calling to him in his dreams and sending him signals in his mind, that they needed his help. As usual, Rob had been against their leaving, but when given the choice of being left alone in the canyon of Liam's destroyed camp, or riding with Mulder, Scully, Liam and William, he'd agreed to come along. William had been guiding them to their destination in a complicated version of the Hot/Cold game.

"No, I told you, they're friends. I've dreamed about them, just like I dreamed about you and Dana." 

"Then why are you afraid, Will?" He hadn't said he was, but Mulder could read it in William's face.

"Because I don't want to fail." He finished one last swipe of the windows and put the squeegee back in the bucket of fluid between the gas pumps, where it made a soft splash. 

"Will, no matter what happens, you never have to worry about failing. You let Dana and I worry about all of that stuff," Mulder said, smiling. "Okay?"

"Okay," William said, unconvincingly. 

"Hey," Mulder said, his face brightening, hoping the idea that popped into his mind would help to cheer William up, or at least take his mind off of the mission they had just begun. Their new quest. "I know you brought your baseball glove and I think I saw one in the station's manager's office. We have a little time. Do you want to play catch for a bit?"

William looked up at him, and Mulder saw a spark in his eyes. He nodded.

"Go get your glove and I'll be right back," Mulder said, ruffling William's hair once more.

A few minutes later, when Mulder returned, Rob and William were standing a few feet away from the truck near an abandoned car. William was gesturing wildly and Rob gripped William's arm tightly. They were difficult to hear, but Mulder thought he heard Rob tell William to get in the car now.

"Hey! Hey!" Mulder shouted, running towards them. "What's going on?"

Upon hearing the commotion, Scully and Liam quickly came running to the scene as well.

"I'm not leaving them, dad!" William shouted.

"Let him go, Rob!" Mulder said.

"What's going on?" Scully asked, breathless.

"Will and I are leaving," Rob said. "I wish you all good luck on wherever it is you're going, but we're not following you."

"Rob, don't be a fool. Where do you plan on going?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know. I only know that intentionally or not, you three are dangerous. Get in the car, Will."

"No," William said. He broke free of Rob's grip and ran towards the truck, behind but close to Mulder and Scully. Rob's whole body slumped, he looked like he'd been slapped.

"He doesn't want to go with you," Mulder said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants. He's just a little boy. I'm his father, not you Mulder!"

"Fine, then be his father and think of what's best for him," Mulder said. "The world has changed, Rob. It's not anything like it was before. It never will be again. Our only chance is to stay together."

 

Rob looked at the baseball glove Mulder held, and then he looked to William holding his own glove.

"Fine. You win," he said, sighing. "But I'm driving this shift. No arguments. You look like hell, Mulder." Rob walked past all of them, to the driver's side of the truck and got inside. The remaining four stood motionless for a few moments, not entirely sure what had just happened, looking at each other.

"All right, then. Time to go," Mulder said. And they went.

^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Washington DC

Spring 2001

Late Evening

Scully threw her keys on the kitchen table, and they slid a few feet on the smooth, hard wood before coming to a stop. Her apartment was dark. She stood with her back to him, unable to face him. Her breath hitched involuntarily. She wasn't sure if she was going to burst into tears or punch him in the stomach for putting her through this latest adventure.

She had just gotten him back. Something she could only have believed in her dreams had come true. Mulder was alive.

"Scully, you know I had to try," he said, sounding somewhere between remorseful and smug.

Scully pursed her lips together and looked up at nothing on the ceiling, pleading silently to the light fixture gods to help her to not cry. Damn the pregnancy-induced hormones. For the past several months she had felt so out of control and *little* things like Mulder's abduction, death and resurrection had only been kindling for her already out of balance emotions.

"Scully?" 

She felt him move a step closer to her.

She took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. Not knowing what else to do with her hands, she put them on her hips. "Mulder, I can't go through that again," she said shakily.

"Through what again?" he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed, which made her already frayed nerves do summersaults.

She turned to face him, furrowing her brow in disbelief that he would ask such a thing. "You dying, Mulder."

He actually laughed. It was a soft, almost patronizing chuckle, but it was a laugh. "I didn't die this time. I'm fine. I'm standing right here." Her face remained serious; his smile faded. "Scully, I'm still the same person I was before. Aside from a few more scars, I haven't changed. I thought you better than anybody would understand that."

"I do understand that, Mulder and that's why I'm terrified," she said. The tears she'd been holding back finally spilled down her cheeks. "But *I* have changed. *Things* have changed." She placed her hand over her pregnant belly and Mulder's gaze followed.

They stood uncomfortably silent in the dark room for what was probably only seconds, but to Scully it felt like eons. So far, Mulder had given her his congratulations, a forced smile and awkward glances, but they had yet to really discuss the child growing inside her and what that meant for them together. She had tried, but his own terrifying experiences were enough for him to deal with at the moment. 

"Scully, I don't expect you to follow me on these -- investigations. I know you have more to think about right now. I know how much that baby means to you," Mulder said, less confident than he had been earlier, glancing away.

"What about what this baby means to you, Mulder?" she said. "It's been a week since you found out about this baby and you've barely said more than a full sentence about it and when you do, it's always how happy you are for me." She hadn't wanted to say these things to him, not in this way, but the stress of the past six months overwhelmed her. The fear and pain, the joy and guilt and the despair that she had tried to hold inside of herself spilled over her lips, hitting him square in the chest. "The very same day that I lost you, I found out about this baby. I was so happy, yet in agony because you were gone. The person I wanted to share this with the most had been taken from me. Then, after searching for you, only to find you dead… Mulder, I watched them lower your coffin into the ground. I threw dirt over it. The only thing keeping me standing was this baby, because I knew it was my only lasting link to you. I wanted to make sure this child knew its father."

Mulder's only reaction was a barely audible, "What?" And he blinked. Twice.

"I said I wanted our baby to know its father," she said, unsure exactly which part of her speech he was referring to. "I -- I want our baby to know you."

"Our baby?" he said, still staring with vacant eyes.

"Yes," she said simply.

"This is our baby?"

"Yes," she said, like she was speaking to a slow child. Then realization hit her, "Oh my god, you didn't know, did you?"

He shook his head slowly back and forth. He spoke like his tongue was slightly paralyzed, or like he was mildly intoxicated. "I thought that you tried again. That maybe you tried the IVF again and it finally worked." 

"No," she said, softly. She never thought for a minute that he would reach that conclusion. She'd been in such a rush to tell him that she was pregnant before he saw for himself, that she hadn't thought to tell him he was the father. The paternity of her baby had never been a fact she had questioned, so she'd assumed he wouldn't either. Now that she understood he'd misinterpreted the situation, his coldness, his aloof behavior since he'd found out about her pregnancy all made perfect sense.

"But how?" he asked, stepping closer to her, still keeping a couple of feet away.

She smirked. "Birds and the bees and the monkey babies, Mulder," she said, her voice rough and thick with some emotion she couldn't quite name.

He smiled at the memory. "But we only… I mean, we," he started. He shifted his feet uncomfortably, and Scully was somewhat amused that he was so nervous discussing their brief sexual history together considering the extensive video collection he'd amassed over the years. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't been the least bit shy during their mere handful of intimate encounters prior to his abduction. He cleared his throat and changed tacks. "Scully, you were incapable of conceiving."

"So they said. I guess they were wrong."

"But you went to several specialists. I know you reviewed the reports yourself. I discovered what they did to you," he said.

"I can't explain it, Mulder. It doesn't change the facts. We conceived this child. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about that when I told you in the first place. I never guessed you'd think I would try without you."

"I knew how important having a child was to you. I know how hurt you were when it failed."

She had been hurt. When she'd first asked Mulder to help her conceive a child they had been partners in every sense of the term except physically. If he had declined her request, she would not have pursued another donor, yet it took failure and several months beyond that for her to realize it hadn't merely been a child she had wanted desperately, but a child with Mulder. She'd never told him that. When he'd been abducted, they'd only begun exploring the full scope of their feelings for each other. Neither of them had ever been very good at baring their souls and laying their hearts open for the other to see. It took losing him for her to realize just how foolish she had been and how much time she had wasted. She didn't want to make the same mistake again now that she had him back.

She also didn't want him getting himself killed for good this time.

"Mulder," she started, stepping closer to him. She reached for his hand and lightly alternated her fingers over his. "I was devastated when the IVF didn't take, but that was a sliver in my finger compared to what I felt when I lost you. Do you understand that?"

Mulder looked at their entwined fingers, and she watched his eyes flicker over her stomach. With both of hers, she placed Mulder's hand over her belly, wondering if she was pushing him too far too quickly. She couldn't muster up the courage to look into his eyes at the same time. "I know this is a shock, Mulder. I know it's not what you signed up for. I don't expect anything from you, and I wouldn't blame you if you ran through that door right now, but I was hoping that maybe we could do this together. Just like we always do?" She inhaled quickly and when he didn't respond, a million butterflies took flight at once inside her. "Mulder?" His hand was still over her belly and she finally allowed herself to glance up at his face. He had the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, though Scully thought she saw the beginnings of tears forming. His face was peaceful and awestruck. He met her eyes with his own.

"I'd like that, Scully," he answered simply, smiling more broadly. "I'd like that a lot."

She hoped he meant that part about them doing it together and not the part where he ran through the door. She took the fact that his feet hadn't moved an inch as a good sign and didn't tempt providence again. Maybe they both could begin to heal.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

6:15 pm

Perhaps it was the power of suggestion -- it was Christmas Eve after all -- but Monica was sure that the brilliant, blue star she had observed for the past few hours was coming closer and closer to camp. It fascinated her, mesmerized her, until it dawned on her that the *star* could be less a miraculous object, and more a machine designed for destruction -- specifically her destruction and what was left of mankind.

Aside from the noise of cleaning up and the preparation of dinner, Canyon City had been quiet since the attack. She knew she shouldn't, but until the realization of what the blue light could be hit her, Monica felt the same sense of peace she had felt when they'd first arrived with Aiden a couple of days earlier. Change was in the air. Good change or bad change, she wasn't sure.

Monica heard the unmistakable limping footsteps of John on the gravel behind her. She twisted her upper body around to see him and pointed her finger towards the star. "Do you see that?" she asked.

He looked up, trying to follow her line of sight. He shook his head. "See what? I see a crescent moon and stars. Lots of stars." He stopped walking, stood next to her and folded his arms across his chest, doing his best to keep the chill away.

"But do you see *that* star?" she asked, turning around to look again for herself. "Where did it go?" She squinted her eyes, as if that would help her to see it better. The star was gone and in its place were a thousand other smaller white dots over the black carpet of outer space. "It was just there a second ago --" She looked at John. He had an amused look on his face, like he had just sneaked a fork full of her dessert, but wanted her to know he had sneaked it. "What are you smiling about?" she asked, amused herself, forgetting the blue light for now.

"Monica, you are filthy," he said.

She made a noise somewhere between a click with her tongue and a huff. "Thanks John. You really know how to flatter a girl."

"Maybe a nice lukewarm shower would help," he said slowly. Finally, his lips revealed his full spread of teeth, and he smiled more broadly than Monica had remembered him smiling since she'd known him.

"You fixed it!" she shouted excitedly.

He shrugged and smiled smugly. "Anytime you're ready, it's all yours."

Monica threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over, and kissed him chastely on the lips. "John, you're a life saver," she said once she pulled away from him. "I used to think I was tough, but it's amazing how much I took for granted something like access to a regular shower. I think it might take some industrial strength solvent to --"

"Shhh," he said suddenly, looking over her shoulder in the same direction she had been watching the star. "Do you hear that?" 

She listened, straining her ears towards whatever he thought he heard. She shook her head that she couldn't hear it, but in mid-shake, she did. It was the sound of wheels rolling over gravel. Canyon City was located deep inside an old river bed. The only way into it, was following the canyon along the river's path or from above, the way that Aiden had led their group. As far as she knew, only one direction was completely navigable by car into the camp, but that wasn't where the sound originated. She looked up above to the top of the sheer rock walls.

"Someone's coming," John said. Others began to gather around them, all looking up to the source of the noise. 

Finally, they saw two bright lights spill over the edge of the cliff and stop, seemingly hovering in mid air. A car door slammed shut, followed by another. The faint sound of voices could be heard, though it was impossible to discern how many there were or what was being said.

Jeremiah Smith and Aiden soon stood beside Monica and John. 

"Do you have any weapons?" John asked Jeremiah.

Jeremiah smiled. "Yes, but we don't need them now."

"Do you know who's up there," John asked anxiously. "I'd rather not take any chances."

"You won't need a weapon," Jeremiah said again. "It's William."

John shook his head. "Whoever it is, they drove a car," he said. "Sounds like there's at least two or three people up there."

"Let's find out," Monica said, starting towards the path that led to the cliff above, the same path they had taken when they'd arrived at Canyon City.

"We'll be coming from below. They'll have the advantage," John said, lightly grabbing her wrist.

"So, put your FBI agent hat back on for a moment, and cover my back," she said, smiling. Monica had no fear of the people on the cliffs. Maybe she should, but the more nervous John became, the more she thought his reaction was cute, which kept her anxiety low. Plus, her gut told her the reason for the blue star she had seen had just arrived. "Live a little, John," she said, winking at him. She pulled away from his grasp and headed for the trail. Gibson and Aiden started after her.

"Fine, I guess I'll come along then," he called and jogged to catch up with Monica ahead of the boys. She smiled when he reached her. "If I was wearing my FBI hat right now, I'd be armed and wearing H.R.T gear, with a helicopter on call."

"I knew I forgot something. The helicopter will be late. You'll have to suffer through with just me instead."

He laughed, and so did she.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Neosho, Missouri

December 24, 2012

5:16 pm

Tom Davis watched as light wind rippled his reflection in the murky water. The pond sat on the property that had been the boyhood home of George Washington Carver, a man of great scientific importance during the latter half of the nineteenth century and the early half of the twentieth century, but best known to the average person as the father of peanut butter. There was a little visitor's center a few hundred yards through the woods, which during the summer saw a reasonable volume of traffic for a relatively small park. Today the visitor's center and the surrounding three hundred or so acres of land were completely empty except for Tom, his new companions and various woodland animals.

Carver had been born a slave, but raised like a son by his mother's former master. There was a certain irony that Tom found this place to rest on their way to wherever it was they were going. He had brought eleven children who had once been his prisoners with him, and now they were all one big fugitive family. He, the former master; they, the former slaves.

Tom wasn't completely sure where he should go or what he intended to do once he got there. For now, all of his energy was focused on avoiding detection and keeping the children safe. This part of western Missouri was about as far from any of the five "mother ships" as he could get in one day, though Tom knew one of them hovered not terribly far away in Northeastern Missouri. He had to pass by that ship one way or the other and he hadn't wanted to waste too much time by driving too far around it.

The safest place to go would be one of the red zones where no Level C Hybrid could enter without being torn to pieces and where only Grays who had no iron allergy would dare step. The handful of Level B Hybrids, like himself, who were genetically engineered to be immune to the iron toxin were either high ranking project leaders, or had defected long ago. Tom's only decision at the moment was whether to head north to the Mesabi Iron Range, or to the Southwest where humankind's adverse association with extraterrestrial biological entities had all begun.

He'd grown up in Michigan, so he felt the north pulling him. It would probably be the safest place as well, with some of the highest levels of iron in North America concentrated in Minnesota's Iron Range. Tom remembered his giant map with all of the lighted red dots. The strongest concentration of survivors had been located in that region. Unfortunately, compared to the rest of the population of North America, that was a small number.

"We'd be safe there for now, but we couldn't do what needs to be done," Christian said. Most of the children were asleep in the visitor's center, exhausted by their impromptu exodus, and not used to traveling. But as was usual for him, Christian was awake while the others slept, no doubt probing Tom's mind, trying to gain a sense of peace by understanding his intentions. Tom wished Christian would share this wisdom with him, because at the moment Tom's intentions were a mystery to himself. The boy had shadowed him silently to the pond, where they'd sat without speaking, either aloud or in their minds for nearly an hour.

"I don't know what needs to be done, Christian." Tom smiled when he said the boy's name. "I guess it's okay if I call you that out loud now." Christian nodded, but looked to his feet in a rare moment of shyness.

"My parents and my friends called me Chris," he said. His eyes locked with Tom's. 

Tom cleared his throat. "You remember your parents?" Of course he remembered his parents. Christian had been nine years old when he'd been officially relocated from his parent's home to the dormitory where the children of the project lived until yesterday. 

The children had originally been bred to replace Level B Hybrids, like Tom. They would be more advanced, but allowed to live with their parents until they reached their teens. The fact that they had been nurtured in a human womb, and born to a human mother had been key to their superiority. Once born, they'd be closely monitored, but left relatively alone until needed. The idea was that they would become the best of both worlds. They would be loyal and powerful, which had been the original goal for the Level B's, but lacking the deadly iron intolerance of the Level C's. They would be the most advanced alien/human hybrid ever created and ideal for serving the agenda of the Grays. 

Christian had been one of the last to join the project. It wasn't until after the first of the special children had been born that Tom discovered the children were special in other ways as well, that their biology itself might hold the key to the successful colonization of earth. Once the iron toxin vaccine program was in full swing, the remaining free children had been rounded up immediately, whether it meant eliminating their parents or not.

"Sometimes I have nightmares about them," Christian said, answering Tom's question. "I dream about the accident. I try to save them, but I can never get to them in time." The boy continued to look at his feet, and he spoke softly. Tom thought he seemed on the verge of tears, which startled him. Christian had often been emotionless, almost robotic, even during the worst phases of testing. He was only eleven, but Tom always regarded him as older, more like a high school aged child, more mature than that even. But this display of emotion was something Tom had never seen before. Somehow it comforted him. Maybe if this boy could show his humanity, it would be okay for Tom to do the same. They could learn together.

"It wasn't your fault," Tom said, walking over to where Christian sat, and sitting next to him on the grassy earth. "You couldn't have saved them. Not even you are that powerful."

Now tears did fall over the boy's cheeks. He sniffed, but otherwise did not make a sound. He wiped the tears away with the back of this hand and looked at Tom. "I should have known. I could have warned them."

Tom shook his head and wrapped his arms around Christian, pulling him close. "No, Chris. I should have known. It was all my fault. If you need someone to blame, you blame me."

^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

6:22 pm

Monica scrambled up the trail leading to the cliffs above. She lost sight briefly of the truck and their visitors. John, Gibson and Aiden followed behind her, though Gibson and Aiden had fallen back a step or two. Joy had tried to come along, but Monica insisted that she stay below, and thankfully Jeremiah had coaxed the girl into staying with him. If the visitors were who Monica thought they were, or who Monica thought one of them was, they'd all meet again at the bottom of the canyon soon enough.

Monica reached the top first, but before she could see anyone, she heard a familiar voice ordering her to stop.

"Slowly," the voice said. "I'm armed."

"Dana?" Monica asked, stepping cautiously out of the shadows. "Dana, it's Monica. Is that you?"

After hesitating a moment, the voice asked "Monica? Monica Reyes?"

Monica took a few more steps forward into the light from the truck's headlamps. Dana Scully lowered her gun and stepped forward as well. "Yes, it's me," Monica said, smiling so hard it physically hurt. She had been expecting William, but not in a million years had she expected to see Dana with him. Standing near Dana, was Mulder, within her arms reach, and behind him, forming an imprecise circle, were two men Monica did not recognize. All of the adults clumped together in a protective posture around a boy who Monica assumed must be William.

Monica closed the distance to Dana and wrapped her arms around her, probably crushing her former co-worker and friend, but she couldn't contain herself. After gasping softly, Monica felt Dana's arms wrap around her, returning the embrace. "I can't believe you're here," Monica said, finally letting go. She turned to Mulder, who smiled broadly and extended his hand. Monica looked at it for a second, ignored it, and threw herself at Mulder, bypassing the casual shake for a bear-hug like the one she had given Dana. Before she had let Mulder go, John's gruff voice came from the shadows.

"Dana Scully and Fox Mulder? Unbelievable," John said warmly. "I never thought I'd see the two of you again, especially not here, not now." John gave Dana a quick hug. Monica stepped back and Mulder extended his hand to John, who took it, giving Mulder a firm shake.

"Agent Doggett and Agent Reyes. You're not going to bring us in for the reward money, are you?" Mulder said, smiling.

"Just John and Monica now, Mulder," John said.

It felt like a family reunion to Monica. She had not been so happy to see anyone in her entire life. It was not only that these were two old friends, or that she hadn't seen them in ten years, but that she had been sure they were dead. For them to show up, in the middle of the Kayenta Valley was amazing. But it fit perfectly. It would feel wrong to spend the first post-Colonization Christmas Eve without Mulder and Scully. They had introduced her to this whole crazy mess, given her the knowledge she needed to survive it, so it was only right and proper that they should all be together now. Monica sensed that they felt the same way somehow. She could see the years on their faces, so much time on the run with only each other. It must feel good to see friendly faces again.

"The dirty thoughts I hear inside my head could only be from the mind of one former Special Agent Mulder," Gibson said, slightly out of breath, smiling broadly, as he made his way up the path and into the light with the others. Aiden was a step behind him, but was quiet, and his face was serious with a touch of nervousness.

"Gibson?" Dana said, craning her head forward slightly and raising her eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Hello, Agent Scully," he said, holding eye contact with her, and shocking Monica by pulling Dana into a warm embrace. Gibson had never been overly demonstrative as a boy, and the past few days with him as an adult had reaffirmed Monica's observations.

"I haven't been Agent Scully in a long time, Gibson. I'm so glad you're safe," she said, pulling back.

"It's good to see you, kiddo," Mulder said, squeezing Gibson's shoulder, and clapping him lightly on the back. 

"It's really good to see you. All of you," Gibson said.

The five old friends stood together in comfortable silence, each with their own variations of shock and joy registering on their faces. None of them knew what to say next, yet it was clear there was so much to speak of. 

"You must be exhausted. Why don't we all go below and get you settled in? We have plenty of hot food and places to sleep and there's even a shower," Monica said.

"Oh my god, I never thought I'd hear that word again in my life," Dana said, rolling her head back along her shoulders, and pushing her fists into the small of her back. 

"I know exactly how you feel," Monica said, shifting her eyes towards the boy standing behind Mulder, finally allowing herself a long look at what had become of the baby she had helped bring into the world. She put her hands on her knees and leaned towards him, but kept her distance. "Hello there. I'm Monica."

William smiled shyly, but didn't speak.

Someone cleared their throat, and Mulder turned around to face the two men standing next to William. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, extending his arm out towards the older man first. "This is Rob Van de Kamp," then Mulder pointed to each person, "Rob, this is Monica Reyes and John Doggett. They used to work with Scully and I at the FBI, if you can believe that. And this is Gibson Praise." They all nodded along with their polite hellos and Mulder turned towards the younger man. "This is Liam… Actually, I don't know your last name. Liam? Hey, Liam? Are you with me, man?" 

Liam was frozen. His eyes were fixed on something behind Monica, and when she turned around, she realized he was staring at Aiden. The scene would have been comical if it hadn't also been a touch creepy. Aiden was also staring, though not back towards Liam. The object of Aiden's attention was William. 

"Aiden? Are you okay?" Monica asked, breaking his trance. His face was quickly transformed, back from slightly vegetative to relatively normal by a foolish grin.

"I'm sorry," he said shyly, but with awe flavoring his voice. "I just can't believe it."

"Believe what?" John asked, but Monica already knew what Aiden's answer would be. It had been clear from the moment she'd first spoken of William around the camp fire during their first night in Canyon City, and it was written all over his Aiden's face now. He thought he was in the presence of the Messiah.

"That I'm standing a few feet from William," he said.

The man Mulder had called Rob pulled the boy closer to him, his face showing alarm. "Who exactly are you? How do you know Will?" Rob asked calmly, but with a hint of warning.

"It's okay," Monica said, trying to sound reassuring. "He's a friend. We'll explain everything once we get down to camp."

Monica glanced at William again, turned towards Dana. "Dana, I can't believe you found him, after all these years. It's incredible." Dana nodded, but clenched her teeth, looking like she had smelled some unpleasant odor. She looked towards Mulder, who had the same look on his face.

"Now wait just a damn minute!" Rob not quite shouted. "*You* came looking for Will? Just like him?" He thrust his finger towards the man Mulder had called Liam, but who had yet to say or do anything but stare at Aiden. "What exactly is going on here?" Rob sounded frantic, on the verge of hysteria.

Scully sighed and nodded to Mulder, who nodded back as they reached some silent agreement with each other. With a somewhat deflated deadpanned expression, Mulder said, "Um… Rob, did I ever mention that Monica helped to deliver William into the world?"

There were approximately two seconds of complete and total graveyard silence before the shouting resumed.

Sometimes, Monica wished she had kept a scorecard all these years. It would be so much easier to know what was going on.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

6:43 pm

The decision not to tell Rob the whole truth about who she and Mulder were and why they had arrived at his house two days earlier seemingly out of thin air had probably been a mistake.

Correction -- *had* been a mistake. But as much as Scully rehashed the past few days in her mind, she wasn't sure she would have done anything differently. They had all lived a lifetime since Colonization began, yet time had passed in a blur. If not for Will's gift, who his biological parents were would still be a secret even to him. There just hadn't been the right moment to discuss it with Rob.

Thanks to Monica, the moment, right or wrong, had arrived. Leave it to Mulder to make the situation worse.

"Did I ever mention that Monica helped to deliver William into the world?" Mulder asked. Scully knew he was trying to be casual, lighten the situation, but he'd achieved the opposite.

"What on God's forsaken earth can he possibly mean by that?" Rob shouted, pointing to Mulder but his eyes pleading to Scully. "Can't any of you ever just speak like normal people?" Without letting her answer, he continued, randomly making eye contact with whoever landed within his line of site. "I want somebody to explain to me right now what exactly is going on here, who all of you are in explicit detail, how this woman knows my son and why that man keeps staring at Will like he's the Pope," he said, jerking his index finger towards Aiden. "If I for one moment believe I’m being jerked around, lied to, coddled or manipulated I am jumping in that truck with my son and getting the hell away from you all forever. Is that understood?"

"Rob --" Mulder started, but Rob chopped the air with his arm, stopping him.

"I've heard enough from you, Mulder."

"Dad?" Will tugged gently on his father's sleeve.

"Will, I'll handle this," Rob said, not looking down. "You," Rob said tersely, pointing to Monica. "What did you mean when you said you couldn't believe Dana had found Will after all these years?"

Monica hesitated, looked to Scully, silently apologizing for not realizing what the situation had been before she'd opened her mouth. Scully nodded back that it was all right, *how could you have known?* she hoped her face conveyed.

"Dad, I --" Will tried again more earnestly.

"Will, please. I want you to stay back."

William slinked back towards the truck. Scully thought about comforting him, but decided she would have to wait until everything was out in the open. It was time to pay the Piper and have this out.

"Rob, is it?" Monica asked. "I don't think I'm the person you should be asking."

"Too bad. I need some answers and I don't trust him," he said, jerking his thumb towards Mulder.

"Rob," Scully took a step towards him, forcing her voice to sound soothing, rather than anxious, which was more in line with how she felt.

"Or you," he said to her.

Scully took another step. "Rob, please. Let me explain everything. I promise, I will tell you the whole truth as I know it." She returned her gun to the holster on the back of her hip and raised her hands palms up in a sign of submission. "Please, trust me."

"Why should I?" he said, deflating slightly.

"I can't answer that. I can only say I'm the same woman who saved your life and tried to save your wife's. I know Will's safety is the most important thing to you. We have that in common. Please?"

Rob nodded, but he was like a wild animal. Willing to inch closer to snatch food from her hand, but prepared to run the moment he felt threatened. 

Scully reached inside her windbreaker, dug inside a pocket with her right hand until she found what she wanted. "Here," she said, handing two worn and faded wallet-sized photographs to Rob. One was of William a few weeks before she had given him up for adoption; the other was taken a day after he had been born and included herself and Mulder cradling their new miracle child. She had the photographs memorized, yet they never failed to draw tears when she actually looked at them. The people in those photographs had so much future in front of them, or so they had naively believed.

Rob took the photos and studied them, his brow furrowed. "Where did you get these?"

"I took that one," she said, referring to the picture of William wearing a light blue hat, sitting in his baby seat. She hadn't realized telling Rob the truth would stir up so many emotions. Scully had thought about -- dwelled on -- the moment she had handed William over to a social worker every single day since she'd done it. She was not opening an old wound, because she'd never managed to stop the hemorrhaging in the first place. This shouldn't be that difficult now. Scully inhaled deeply. "My mother took the other one." 

Rob looked at her perplexed, shook his head. 

Mulder moved next to Scully, keeping an inch or two from her and not interrupting, but letting her know he was with her. That she was not alone. She would have to thank him later. "I remember when I took that picture. William had been crying most of the morning because he was teething, but for some reason just before I snapped it, his face lit up and he was the happiest baby in the world. I would have taken a hundred pictures that day if I had known they would be the last I'd take."

Rob stared at her. The moment stretched out, and Scully was about to end the uncomfortable silence when Rob ended it for her.

"You're Will's mother, aren't you?" Rob asked, his nose crinkled, partly in anger, partly in disbelief. "His birth mother?" 

Scully gulped, quickly wiped an escaped tear from the corner of her eye, and nodded. "Yes."

"You're his father then." Rob stated to Mulder, rather than asked. "All that stuff you told me about knowing your son was okay. I felt sorry for you and you were just lying to me."

"I never lied to you about that," Mulder said seriously. "I just didn’t volunteer any information."

Rob laughed. "How is that different?"

"You’re his parents?" a voice from behind all of them asked. It was Liam. He'd barely spoken since they'd found his camp in ashes, but he sounded re-energized. "You are the Serpent King's mother and father?" 

Scully thought he might actually drop to his knees and bow before them.

"Stay out of this," Rob snapped. Liam didn't pay him any attention.

"Unbelievable. And I wanted him to ditch you." Liam looked like he might laugh. Scully still was not sure whether Liam was simply naïve, eccentric or insane. Most likely it was all of the above. 

"For all I know you were in this deception game with them," Rob said to Liam. "What did you do, help them find me? You and your friend?"

Liam shook his head, but his lips were turned up in an amused smile. 

"How did you find us?" He turned back to Mulder and Scully. "Why would you give your son up for adoption and then come looking for him so soon afterwards? That doesn't make any sense. They told us he was given up by a *single* mother," he said. He lifted the photographs up to take a closer look. "Anyone with a computer can fake a picture. This is all some elaborate scheme to get me to bring my son here, but I can't figure out what you can possibly want with him."

"Rob, that's enough," Mulder said. He looked tired, the way Scully felt. "This is the truth. Will believes it, why can't you?"

"You've told Will?" Rob asked, sounding like Mulder had just told him it was raining lemon drops and the clouds were made out of cotton candy, or something equally absurd. 

"No, he told us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask him --" Mulder stopped mid-word and mid-gesture towards William. "Where'd he go?"

William was not there. 

"Did you see where he went?" Scully asked John and Monica, then Aiden. All shook their heads that they hadn't seen him. Everyone had been so caught up in the soap opera in front of them, they hadn't noticed an eleven-year old boy wander off alone in the dark. 

"Where's Gibson?" Monica asked nobody in particular. "John, did you see where he went?"

"No, I didn't notice he'd left," John answered, looking around like the others.

"Do you think he took Will somewhere?" Mulder asked, sounding slightly panicked. 

"Maybe, but I don't know why he'd just leave without saying anything," Monica said. "Aiden, can you tell where either one of them is?"

The man Monica had identified as Aiden closed his eyes, seemingly concentrating hard, then shook his head. "No, I can't hear them," he said. Scully wasn't entirely sure what that had been about, but she hadn't been paying that close attention to him. She'd been looking around, peering into the darkness for her son. 

"Where did he go, Mulder?" Rob shrieked. 

"How the hell should I know? I was letting you pummel me with your paranoid nonsense," Mulder said, sounding equally strident. Scully absently wondered when Mulder and Rob would start throwing punches, but didn't really care. All that mattered was finding Will.

Scully practically leaped the few steps to the truck and threw open the door. She pulled out a flashlight which had been stuck in the glove compartment and switched it on. Not even bothering to close the truck's door, she headed off in the direction opposite the cliff overlooking Monica and John's camp, the same direction they had driven from.

"Where are you going?" Rob yelled.

"To find my son," she called back without turning around.

"Dana, wait up. We'll all help," Monica called. Scully didn't slow down, but she heard Monica's quick footsteps on the dirt as she jogged to catch up. 

Scully had no intention of losing her baby boy once again.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

*You shouldn't go so far from camp at night. There are wild animals.*

Gibson spoke silently, through his mind, knowing William would hear him. William sat near a dried up tree with his arms around his bent knees looking out to the expansive horizon. It was dark, but the outline of the world was visible, aided by moonlight and billions of stars.

"I want to be alone," William said out loud, seeming not to realize the voice had been inside his head, rather than from without. He turned back around, sullenly, wrapping his arms around his legs tighter and resting his chin on top of his knees.

"You're never really alone, though, are you Will?" Gibson said, sitting down cross-legged next to him, grimacing softly. His leg had never really healed properly since he'd broken it, and it always gave him trouble when twisting into awkward positions. 

He'd caught a glimpse of William sneaking off while Scully, Mulder and Rob had been arguing. Gibson had sensed the turmoil inside his mind, and understood it better than anyone else possibly could.

"I'm really glad to finally meet you in person, Will. I've heard a lot about you."

William turned his head to look at Gibson, eyes wide. "How?"

"I'm an old friend of Dana's and Mulder's. I spent a lot of time with Mulder just after you were born," Gibson said, pausing to confirm from William's mind what he suspected already. "You know about them, don't you? Who they are?"

William nodded. "They're my parents -- my real parents. They told me, but I already knew."

Gibson smiled. William didn't have to explain further how he knew. Even if Gibson couldn't read his mind, he would have understood. 

The two of them were silent for a while. 

"Are you the one from my dreams?" William asked softly, with a combination of shyness and hopefulness. 

Gibson considered for a moment. "I'm not sure, Will. I don't think so, but I think I know who you're talking about," Gibson said, half knowing intuitively what William meant, picking up the rest by hearing William's thoughts. "You've dreamed about the others. The children. The others like you. One of them is here in camp."

Once again, William's eyes grew wide as saucers. 

"Her name is Joy. She helped us find you, and I think others are coming," Gibson said aloud. He put his hand gently on William's shoulder, and looking at William but not speaking, he said, *You have friends here, Will. Friends who understand what it's been like for you.*

William nodded, swallowed hard, and Gibson knew William understood what similarities they both shared. 

Gibson smiled and said. "We should probably go back. They're looking for us."

"I wish they would stop fighting."

"Sometimes adults are stupid when they're worried about the people they care about. When I was not much older than you are now, my parents died. They were killed mysteriously, though I know what happened. They were murdered. When I wasn't being shuttled around from foster home to foster home, I was being kidnapped by the people who had killed my parents."

"Why are you telling me this?" William asked, crinkling his brow and cheek. "Aren't adults supposed to lie to kids and not tell them horrible stories like that?" 

Gibson laughed softly. "That's what most adults do, isn't it? That's what adults would always do to me, but I always knew what they were really thinking. That's why I'm telling you the truth now. I know you can read my mind, just like I can read yours. Why pretend? Anyway, my point was, I would have given anything to have one parent to fight over me, let alone three. I know it sucks sometimes, seeing them fight, but they'll work it out. They only want what's best for you, and I promise I'll do what I can to keep them in line." Gibson winked, and William smiled. A full-on, teeth-bared, ear-to-ear grin, that Gibson suspected hadn't been a common sight on William for some time. 

Gibson returned the smile. 

"Did your parents know about you?" William asked.

"No, they just thought I was a brilliant chess player. I was afraid they would think I was a freak if I told them."

"I think my dad thinks I'm crazy."

Gibson put his hand on William's shoulder. "He just doesn't understand, but he will. It will take time, but he'll come around."

"Dana and Mulder believe me."

"Luckily, they used me as their test subject first," Gibson said, without any malice. He had once told Scully he felt like a lab rat. He had been, but even though Mulder and Scully had made mistakes, he'd always known how far they would go for him and the depth of their concern for him, a boy they'd barely known. Gibson had no doubt about how much they must love their real son.

Will shook his head, not understanding what Gibson meant.

"That's a very long story and we'll have time for it later. You're safe here, Will. Everything else will be okay in time. Are you ready to go back, yet?"

William shook his head, but he still had a faint trace of a smile on his lips. "In a minute."

"Okay," Gibson said. And they sat silently looking out towards the stars, both ignoring the faint sounds in their minds of the others searching.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Monica struggled to keep up as Scully's legs moved franticly along with the flashlight's beam.

"Dana, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," Scully said, shining the light on one empty space after another.

"I mean, I should have figured that --"

Scully stopped and faced Monica. "It's okay, Monica. Really. You did us a favor. The truth had to come out eventually." 

"When did you find him?"

Scully pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger, closed her eyes and exhaled. "Two days ago. The day everything began."

"That recently? And, Rob is his adoptive father?" Monica stated. It wasn't a question, the answer was obvious. 

"Yes."

"What about his adoptive mother?" Monica asked, knowing what the answer would be before she said it.

Scully shook her head. "The Plague. I tried to save her, but I was too late."

"Dana, I don't think there was anything you could have done."

Scully looked into Monica's eyes. "I found a cure, Monica, or at least a treatment." 

"What?" 

"It saved Rob. He was infected when we found him. I've been working on it for years. I got the idea from the injection Jeffery Spender gave William when he was a baby."

"That's incredible."

"I was too late, though. I couldn't even save Will's mother, let alone the rest of mankind," Scully said. 

"You are William's mother, Dana," Monica said, touching Scully on the shoulder, giving her what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Only by blood, but that's not what it takes to be a mother."

"And he knows who you and Mulder are?"

Scully nodded. "We didn't even have to tell him. He already knew." Scully grimaced, and her eyes filled with tears she fought to hold back, probably just as much from fatigue as the memory she was facing. "I never should have given him up, Monica. I made such a terrible mistake."

"Dana, you did what you felt you had to do. You don't know how his life or your lives would have been different if he'd stayed with you. In fact, I think you did the right thing. There's a little girl I want you to meet later. She and William have a lot in common. Maybe knowing what her life has been like will change your mind, let you have peace with your decision."

Scully laughed mirthlessly. "I don't think that's possible." She took a breath. "The Van de Kamps are good people, and I'm grateful that they got to be Will's parents, but they didn't understand him. Rob still doesn't understand him. What he's capable of. He can read people's minds, like Gibson. And I think he can do more than that, like what he could do when he was a baby."

"I thought the magnetite injection Jeffery Spender gave him took all that away, made him normal," Monica said.

"I think he's more normal than the rest of us. I just couldn't see that then," Scully said, sniffing. She turned around towards the wilderness. "I have to find him, Monica. I won't make the same mistake again."

"Dana," Monica said, grabbing Scully's arm and turning her back to face her. "If William can read your mind, he knows. Do you understand me? He knows." Scully reluctantly nodded.

"We'll find him," Monica said, pulling Scully into a warm embrace, like she had earlier. "It's really good to see you again."

"You too," Scully said, pulling away. Monica smiled and Scully turned around again to resume her search. 

"Hey, Scully!" Mulder's voice echoed through the desert air.

Monica and Scully turned around in unison, stood still and listened.

"We found him!" Mulder called again. "Come back!"

Monica smiled, and after inhaling deeply and exhaling even deeper, Scully smiled too.

And they jogged back towards the others.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

7:33 pm

The group made their way down to Canyon City safely and without incident, mostly in silence. The cliff was steep, and in the dark -- dangerous. Doggett had promised to show Mulder a safe way to bring the truck down in the morning, but for now they all carried the minimal supplies they would need to bed down for the night. In spite of more important issues, Mulder could not get his mind off of the promise of a hot meal, and he had witnessed with mild fear the yearning in Scully's eyes over the prospect of taking a shower. He pitied anyone who came between her and the shower. Mulder could use one himself.

The discussion with Rob of who Mulder and Scully really were had been put on hold while everyone searched for William, who had finally returned on his own, escorted by Gibson. But Mulder was certain the cease fire would end once everyone had food in their stomach and the grit scraped off their skin. 

Mulder stepped on a patch of loose gravel and lost his footing. He would have fallen on his ass, but Gibson latched onto his upper arm and steadied him. When they'd first arrived, Mulder had been happy to see Doggett and Reyes, two old friends he'd assumed had been killed like the rest of the world in the Plague, but Mulder had been completely elated to see Gibson. There had been a time, during Mulder's exile just after William's birth, when Gibson had allowed Mulder to treat him like a surrogate son. He'd never thanked Gibson for that, and never imagined he'd have the chance. 

Gibson smirked and Mulder realized he didn't have to say anything. "I'll say it aloud anyway. It's good to see you, Gibson. I'm glad you're okay."

"John kept tabs on me for you."

"I'll have to thank him, too," Mulder looked down at his feet, embarrassed by the emotions old memories had stirred. "So, how did you all find this place? Have you been here very long?"

"That's kind of a long story, but we'll fill you in," Gibson said.

They reached the bottom of the trail. Aiden led the way, followed by Doggett and Reyes, with Gibson and the five newcomers bringing up the rear. 

"First, there are some people who are very interested in meeting you," Gibson said. 

Mulder looked up. A crowd of at least fifty people had gathered in a semi-circle around them at the base of the cliff. All wore faces with varied expressions of awe and excitement, though they all kept a tentative distance away, as if shy. There were generator powered lights in the canyon, but not enough to keep shadows from being cast over them. From the outer edge of the group of people, stepping out from one such shadow, Mulder watched a man walk fluidly and confidently towards them, touching people lightly on the shoulder or arm as he passed them, smiling. The man was tall, older, but familiar. He was only a few feet away when Mulder finally got a clear, well-lit look at his face, and he realized who the man was.

"It's you," Scully said before Mulder could open his mouth. *It's you,* he thought he heard Liam echo, but filed away for later consideration. 

Scully took a few steps closer to Mulder and the man. Her voice was twinged with a mixture of amazement and sadness. She had told Mulder of the last time she had seen the man. Mulder had died that day, and Scully had blamed herself for not reaching him in time, then for not being able to protect the man who stood before them now. It was Jeremiah Smith. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Miss Scully," Smith said, extending his hand, smiling warmly. "It's very nice to see you again after all these years. I'm sorry I never had the chance to say goodbye the last time we met." 

"I thought they took you," Scully said, with wonder.

"They did. I know a few tricks, though. It's what's kept me alive for this long," turning to Mulder, he said, "Agent Mulder, I'm happy to see you found your own way out of the unfortunate state I left you in. No offense, Aiden," he said, winking at the quiet young man.

Aiden returned his smile and said, "None taken."

Mulder had no idea what that meant, but he decided to simply add it to his long mental list of questions he needed to ask later. He shook Smith's hand. "I'm *surprised* to see you. This is turning out to be an X-Files reunion special." Smith laughed, and so did Mulder.

Mulder handled the current round of introductions, and men and women from the crowd began to mingle, introducing themselves to Mulder and the others one-on-one. Everyone was very friendly, some asking if there was anything they could get for him. No, he was fine, he would politely tell them. Doggett told Mulder the group called this place Canyon City, and Mulder thought that fit. There were certainly enough people for it to be a small city, especially considering they were in the middle of the desert and the population of America was drastically lower than it had once been. 

Mulder observed with mild concern that many of the residents of Canyon City were particularly fascinated by William. When they would approach him, if they did at all, they would carry with them the kind of deference Mulder had only seen in movies where lowly subjects would pay homage to a King. Most kept their distance, but Mulder caught several of them glancing frequently at William. 

William himself, seemed not to notice. Smith had introduced him to a girl who looked to be about William's age, and they were talking. Rob stayed close to William, but politely shook hands and chatted with anyone who spoke to him. 

Liam was a different story. He was not rude to anyone who approached him, but in the same way that Canyon City's residents watched William with reverence, Liam watched Jeremiah Smith with equal intensity, but with opposite sentiment. 

Stepping up beside him, Scully took Mulder's hand. "So, what do you think?" she asked him. He looked away from Liam to her face and she added, "Think this will be all right?" She wrapped her arms around his waist, craned her head back to look up at him, waiting.

He put his arms around her shoulders, smiled softly. "Well, I have a lot of big questions, but yeah, I think it will be. I don't think we have much of a choice anyway."

"It's finally out," she said.

Mulder shook his head, not understanding.

"The truth," she said.

He smiled, realizing she meant the truth about William. "I guess it is." He kissed her softly, but briefly on the lips.

"Everyone. Everyone… please!" Smith called, raising his arms, and lowering his hands rhythmically. "Quiet for a moment," he said, and voices petered out until he could be heard speaking in a normal tone. "I think we should let our friends get settled in and then have the biggest dinner we've ever had!"

"Do you think that means something other than Ho-Ho's and beef jerkey?" Scully asked Mulder.

"Lets find out. I'm starving," he said. And they followed the others towards the source of the amazingly wonderful smell of something cooking.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

8:29 pm

Liam used his fork to push the baked beans that he had barely touched around on his plate. He tried to be gracious, so he accepted the hospitality of Canyon City's inhabitants. He sat behind the circle of people around the campfire, hiding in the shadows. Sulking was a better description. He was happy to be in this place. He had once believed his encampment was just like it, yet it was not. Aside from his traveling companions, and Mulder and Scully's friends, all of the people in Canyon City were aliens, either born or created. They were exactly who he and his *family* had wanted to become, yet been denied.

The last few days had left Liam immeasurably confused. One week ago, he had known exactly what he believed without any sliver of doubt. He knew what his role in the world was -- to find Quetzalcoatl and ensure his safety until the dawning of the Fifth Age, which was imminent. Questions began to creep into his mind shortly after arriving at the Van de Kamp's house. His companion Chase's death hadn't been the catalyst. The catalyst had been the fear he'd seen in William's eyes. Liam had been told the Serpent King would be expecting him, would know him and embrace him. It had not been true. That was the first indication he'd been lied to.

The second had been at the gas station, when William was attacked. The man had been a member of Liam's group, the tattoo on his hand was proof enough of that, but Liam did not know him. It hadn't been until after Warrick, his one-time friend, had tried to kill them all and kidnap William that Liam realized impostors had been living among his group. Warrick had been one, Chase had been another and so had the man in the gas station. If only Liam could figure out what their motivations had truly been.

Liam gave up and finally set the plate down on the ground. He feared that if he ate any more, he would throw up. 

Liam had three basic questions he wished he could find the answers to. Firstly, why had so many Alien Replicants chosen to exile themselves in the middle of the desert when all they had to do to survive was pledge allegiance to the Grays and help them unite man and alien, ending the period of materialism and individualism? Secondly, why had the man in the gas station, a member of Liam's group, tried to kill Quetzalcoatl? And thirdly, why in the name of the Serpent King had the Alien Replicants in Canyon City allowed a traitor like Jeremiah Smith to lead them?

The third question gnawed at Liam most.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

9:14 pm

Rob's brain pounded inside his skull. He sat hunched over near the fire circle, but off by himself in a canvas folding chair with his head held in his hands. He'd give his left arm for some Extra Strength Tylenol, but that was one of the many items he'd left behind when he'd had to abandon his home, and the normal life he believed he would live with Susan until the end of his days. 

From the corner of his eye, he watched William talk to a little girl around the same age. Rob wanted to grab him and run; mentally kicked himself for not doing it when he'd had the chance at the gas station. This was all too much for the simple man that he was to handle. Even though William had returned on his own after having run off more than two hours ago, the fear Rob had experienced during those few minutes had left him exhausted. All he could do now was to try to keep an eye on William and hope that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse didn't arrive next. 

Two pairs of shoes scratched along the rocky dirt towards him, but he didn't bother to lift his head to see who owned them until the sound stopped a couple of feet in front of him. When he looked up, he saw Dana standing with her right hand outstretched and Mulder standing next to her.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder. We have something we'd like to discuss with you. It concerns your son. Mr. Van de Kamp, may we have a few minutes of your time?"

"What are you doing?" Rob asked tiredly, slapping his hands on his knees.

"Hoping we could start over," she said, still holding out her hand. 

Rob sighed, nodded and shook her hand curtly. He gestured to two empty chairs like the one he sat on, and Mulder and Dana moved the chairs to sit facing him. They all looked at each other for a few seconds as Dana seemed to collect her thoughts.

When she finally spoke, her tone was calm and measured. "We want to tell you the whole story, Rob. We're going to try to tell you in as much detail as possible, but you should know, it would take weeks or months to really do justice to the past twenty years, and even then, I don't think it's possible to truly explain those experiences to someone who hasn't lived through them, anymore than you could explain what is happening now to someone who hasn't yet been born. If you have any questions, feel free to interrupt. Mulder or I will try to answer as honestly as we can, if we can."

Rob twirled his hand in the air, motioning for her to continue.

"You've seen a lot in the past few days, but you're still resisting," Scully said.

Rob shook his head. "Resisting?"

"The truth," Mulder said.

"That's all I want to know. The truth."

"Which is what we'll give you, but you have to be willing to accept it. Can you?" Mulder asked.

Rob nodded. He wondered if next they would ask him to cut open his hand and shake on it in blood.

"Okay, then," Dana said. "When we were partners at the FBI, Mulder and I worked in a unit called the X-Files. It was a unit devoted solely to investigating unsolvable cases, mostly having to do with paranormal phenomena. We uncovered a conspiracy to cover up the existence of Extraterrestrials. The conspiracy was vast, global, and insidious. The personal costs to each of us were enormous. Mulder lost a sister and his father."

"And Scully's sister was murdered," Mulder said. 

Scully continued, "We learned that aliens had been planning Colonization, the very event that is happening now, at least since 1947 when an alien space craft crashed in Roswell, New Mexico."

Rob laughed. He couldn't help himself. The Roswell myth was an iconic part of American culture. "Area 51 and all that?"

"Yeah, and all that," Mulder said stoically.

"Men within the government, not just the United States, but throughout the world, conspired with the aliens to buy time, telling them they would help create a slave race, or alien-human hybrids to aid Colonization. They began conducting tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"Tests on humans," Mulder said. "For the purposes of creating clones and to better understand how to create a being that is part human and part alien. To create a human being that could withstand the alien Plague that would destroy mankind. Wipe us out, so they could start fresh."

"Cloning has only been possible for ten, maybe fifteen years. I've heard they're trying, but they still can't clone a human being," Rob said. He half spoke to counter their point, half to convince himself it couldn't be possible.

"You might want to tell that to Jeremiah Smith over there. He was part of the cloning project," Mulder said.

"That man over there is a clone?"

 

Mulder shook his head. "No. At least I don't think so, but he was definitely cloned. And he was certainly part of the project, mostly as a test subject."

"Why?"

"That may be a question better suited for him. We can ask him later," Dana said, continuing her story. "There were other projects as well. Hybridization projects." Dana lowered her head, clenched her jaw. She swallowed, and to Rob it appeared that she was trying to force herself to say something that was particularly difficult for her. Mulder saved her from having to.

"Scully was abducted as a part of these hybridization and cloning projects," Mulder said, taking Dana's hand and squeezing it before returning it to its place on her thigh. 

"By aliens? You were abducted by aliens?" Rob asked, smiling in spite of himself. He didn't find it funny, just incredible. Could the stories he'd heard his entire life conjured by nutjobs and the mentally ill about alien abduction actually have been true? He laughed softly to himself and squeezed his eyes shut. Why was this so hard for him to believe? He had just witnessed things he could have never imagined. For all he knew, this little group of fifty or a hundred people represented the last humans on the earth. And he had seen something flying in the air over his house. Rob opened his eyes, looked at Mulder.

"No," Mulder said. "Scully was taken by men in our government. They performed tests on her. They took," he hesitated, glanced at Dana, who looked more embarrassed than traumatized. She nodded, and Mulder continued. "They took her ova and used them to create clones, to create genetically enhanced children, and then they returned her, left her for dead."

Rob's eyes felt as wide as saucers in their sockets. He swallowed, and asked what he didn't want to ask. "Are you telling me that Will is a clone?"

Mulder and Dana looked at each other quickly, confused, held there for a moment. Simultaneously, they smiled and turned back to Rob. Still smiling, her voice sounding lighter, Dana said, "No." 

Rob exhaled.

"Will is not a clone," she reiterated. 

"But he was part of the genetic experiments you're talking about?" Rob asked.

Dana shook her head. "I don't believe that, either. My abduction occurred many years before Will was born."

"You don't *believe* it, or you *know* it?" Rob asked.

"I don't believe it," Dana said, keeping her eyes locked on his for a moment, then she continued. "The years went on. Mulder and I uncovered many other pieces of the alien puzzle, we became…" she lowered her lashes, and though her complexion always had a touch of pink, her cheeks blushed even more deeply, "… involved personally. And then Mulder was abducted."

"I couldn't let Scully have all the fun," Mulder said, smiling.

"Don't tell me they took your…" Rob grimaced, made a face that suggested he'd just eaten a spoiled egg.

"No! No, no, no," Mulder said, not looking at Rob. "I returned in tact, down to the last drop."

"Mulder," Dana scolded.

"What?" He asked. 

Dana shook her head, turned back to Rob. "They did tests on Mulder, too, which in many ways were more horrible than what they did to me. More memorable, anyway. They tortured him," Dana said, and the three of them grew serious again. "Just after he was taken, I found out I was pregnant with Will."

"Which I'm sure was a shock for Scully, because the doctors had told her she could never have children as a result of the tests that had been performed on her," Mulder said.

Rob stood up and put his hands on his hips, exhaling through his lips, which were curled into a circle. "These things you're telling me… this was your life? Your actual life? Not something you saw in a movie or on television somewhere?"

Dana stood up, too, but Mulder remained seated. "Sometimes I have trouble believing it. I know it's hard to take," she said. "Anyway, after Mulder was returned, we thought he was dead."

"Turns out I was only *mostly dead*," Mulder said, half-heartedly, though still earning another eye rolling from Dana. 

"He had a virus, which we eliminated. Soon afterwards I gave birth to Will, and to make a long story short," Dana said quickly.

"No, wait," Rob said, more plaintively then he'd intended. "You said you'd tell me the whole story. You've finally gotten to the part about Will. That's the only part that matters to me."

Mulder stood up, and took Dana's hand. "This is the part that's the most difficult to tell," he said.

Dana and Mulder went on to tell Rob about something called Super Soldiers and Alien-Human Hybrids and magnetite and cultists kidnapping Will and Mulder going into hiding and Dana breaking him out of prison. Most of which made absolutely no sense to Rob, not that any of what they'd told him prior had made any sense. Rob felt certain that although they may still be crazy, they didn't appear to be lying. After all, who could and who would make up such a fantastic tale as this, when all they would have had to say was that they gave up their baby because they couldn't take care of him and then they changed their minds.

Rob scratched his head. "How did you know he'd be safe with us?" He couldn't understand Dana's logic for giving her son up for adoption. She'd said she'd given him away to keep him safe. Rob and Susan had tried for years to have a child of their own. Rob couldn't think of anything on earth that could tear him away from his own child willingly. 

Dana wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, trying to hide it before anyone saw. Rob had already learned that Dana Scully did not easily show emotional weakness, especially in front of people she barely knew. "I didn't. I only knew that I was a magnet for danger. I believed that the magnetite he'd been injected with had taken away any reason for the aliens to seek him out, but I knew that Mulder and I would always be a target, whether we tried to leave that life or not. And that no matter how hard we tried to prevent it, William would always be a tool for our enemies to use against us, or he would simply be too close to the crossfire. I didn't want him to become collateral damage," she said, sniffing.

"Yet you came looking for him anyway?"

"Only after we learned the details of the plans for Colonization. We learned the exact date and the exact method. I began working on a vaccine, and I knew I had to give my son a chance to live." 

"The medicine Scully gave you that saved your life, it's the vaccine she created. She can explain it better than I can, but it's kind of like a tetanus booster shot. We've been giving ourselves boosters for some time now and we had hoped to give it to Will once we found him. Turns out, he doesn't need it," Mulder said.

"Why?"

Dana shook her head, lifted her shoulders slightly. "I'm not sure, but I suspect it's because he's immune. That's why I wanted to draw his blood, so I could test my theory. There are many examples throughout history of individuals showing immunity to extremely virulent pathogens. A mutation known as the CCR5-Delta 32 has been shown to confer immunity to diseases such as AIDS and the Bubonic Plague. I think something similar, if not the same thing, is at work in Will."

"Why does it matter anyway? The Plague has already killed so many. It's over. It's too late," Rob said, edginess in his voice.

"No it isn't. You will most likely need regular boosters to prevent the Plague from returning, as will Mulder and myself. At least until we're sure it's gone," Dana said. "And now it might be more difficult for me to obtain the materials I needed to create the vaccine. Anything we can learn about the Plague and what causes immunity to it will be valuable." 

"The last biology class I had was when I was a freshman in college, but I used to watch the Discovery Channel quite a bit," Rob said, smirking. "Aren't immunities to diseases usually inherited traits?"

Dana nodded. "They often are, but I don't think that's the case here. Mulder and I aren't immune."

"How do you know?"

"He's right, Scully. How do we know if we even needed the booster?"

Scully smiled, and sighed. "I guess we don't. I'll need to do some more tests," she said, her eyes growing wide. "Which reminds me, if I don't find a suitable place to store the stuff and the samples of Will's blood soon, it won't matter what theories I have. The dry ice will be gone soon. Rob, I know there is a lot more we need to talk about, but I think I really need to take care of this. Is that okay with you? I want you to know that from now on we'll try to be as honest and forthright as possible. For so many years, it's been Mulder and I against the world, so sometimes it's hard for us to trust others."

"We'll talk more later, then," Rob said, wondering when exactly he'd stopped thinking about how to flee with Will from these two and started thinking of them as friends. He still did not fully understand what they had told him, or the decision to give Will up for adoption, but he did believe they were telling him the truth, at least as they saw it. 

Dana and Mulder nodded and turned to leave, but Dana stopped and turned back. She kept her lashes lowered, and didn't make direct eye contact with him. "Rob, I also wanted to say thank you."

"What for?" Rob asked.

"For being a good father to William," she said, finally meeting his eyes. "I can see how much you love him and how much he loves you and I'm so grateful that you found each other."

Mulder extended his hand, and Rob shook it. "I wanted to thank you, too," Mulder said. They released their grip, and Mulder smiled close-lipped, nodding. The two men hadn't completely put away their differences, but they silently acknowledged that this was at least a start.

Dana and Mulder turned around again. Rob watched as Mulder gently put his hand around Dana's shoulders to guide her.

"Mulder? I just have one question," Rob asked. Mulder and Dana turned back, twisting only their upper bodies towards Rob, waiting for him to continue. Smiling, Rob asked, "Is your first name really Fox?"

Mulder's laugh came out of him like a pop and then settled in. Scully and Rob soon joined him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 24, 2012

10:13 pm

Fortunately, Canyon City had a generator. Several generators. Even more fortunate than that, there was a small refrigerator inside the cave where, according to Monica and John, they had hidden a day earlier after an alien attack on the camp. Scully did not like hearing that story, however she was more concerned with getting her serum and samples into cold storage. 

After getting them safely tucked away, she stood outside the entrance to the cave and looked around. Scully stretched her arms high into the air and yawned deeply. She was beat. She hoped Mulder had gotten the tent pitched, because all she wanted to do was fall into her sleeping bag and pass out. She swiveled her head around to look for him, but saw William instead. 

He sat on a split log supported by two rocks near, but behind the campfire where several people still gathered. William sat near the little girl Monica had said was named Joy. Monica had also told Scully that Joy was the same little girl Scully had once met when William was a baby, along with Joy's mother, Patti. Scully had listened carefully as Monica had told her about breaking Joy out of a laboratory, hiding her and then finding Patti dead in her house in Mexico, next to a dead Super Soldier. 

That sounded like another, more recent event, Scully had thought.

Joy and William acted like they'd known each other for years. Only William spoke out loud, but that didn't seem to dampen whatever conversation they were having. They were almost the same age and both could read each other's mind. That was a recipe for fast friendship if Scully ever knew one. Scully thought about their similarities. Both were telepathic. Both were the biological children of former government employees and of mothers who had been abducted. Scully remembered back to when Patti had described some of Joy's strange behaviors that Scully had not wanted to admit at the time were exactly like William's. Joy's parents had believed their daughter and William were the results of experiments associated with the Super Soldier program.

Scully had told Rob that William was not part of any hybridization experiments, and she believed that. Mostly. Still, a fragment of doubt pricked at her. How could Joy and William be so similar unless they had been part of the same project? She shook her head, trying to physically shake the thought out of her mind. It didn't matter. William was her son, and she had finally found him 

Scully forced a smile on her lips, and walked towards Joy and William. "Hey there, you two," she said. They both looked up at her, and returned her smile. Scully thought William seemed happier, his spirit lighter, since they'd arrived at the camp. "Aren't you ready for bed, yet? I feel like I'm about to fall over."

"We're hopped up on sugar," William said, holding up a box of Sweet Tarts larger than his head. Joy held up one of her own and both children grinned.

"Where'd you get those?" Scully asked, amused.

"Jay," William said.

"Jay?" Scully asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Smith. The old guy," William said.

"Oh, 'Jay'. I see." She never thought of Jeremiah Smith as someone who would buy children's affection with candy, but somehow it fit. 

Joy stood up, looked at William and took a few steps away. "You don't have to leave, sweetie," Scully said. 

"She was leaving anyway," William said. Joy nodded; large grin still on her face. She turned to walk away, the box of candy rattling in her hand.

"Joy," Scully said, and the girl turned back, looking up. "I'm sorry about your mom. I met her once a long time ago and I really liked her. I just wanted you to know that."

Joy smiled sadly and looked at William. 

"She says 'thank you,'" William said, and then the girl was gone.

Scully sat on the log next to William, clapped her hands on her knees and exhaled. "How are you doing?"

William shrugged, "I'm good. I like it here." 

Scully moved her upper body slightly to the left, tapping her shoulder softly against William's. "Well, Mulder and I just told your dad everything. No more secrets, Will."

William was quiet. He lightly swung his feet back and forth, barely scuffing the dirt with his shoe. "Will you tell me, too?"

"Tell you?" she asked. "You already know."

"I know you're my real mom. But I don't know why you gave me away," he said.

Scully sucked in a breath, but steadied herself. "Oh."

"I always wondered about my real parents. Sometimes I wished I could talk to them. Sometimes I would get angry and wonder what was wrong with me. I wondered if I did something wrong."

"Oh, Will. You didn't do anything wrong. It's complicated. I was worried I couldn't keep you safe," Scully said.

"Because of your job?"

"Yes, but not only that."

They were quiet for another minute. Scully wanted to tell him more, but wasn't sure what he would understand. She barely understood. 

"Did you ever shoot anyone?" William asked, genuinely curious, not upset.

"Yes, but only when I had to," she said, not wanting to lie, knowing he would see through her if she did. "I shot Mulder once." She smiled awkwardly, not quite sure why she'd blurted that out. Shooting anyone, let alone one's partner, was hardly appropriate discussion with an eleven year old, especially when the victim was also the eleven-year old's father.

"Wow, when my parents got mad at me, they would just send me to my room. They never threatened to shoot me," William said, wide-eyed.

Scully tried to think of something she could say to backpedal, and take it back. She didn't want William believing she would shoot him out of anger, or anyone for that matter. "I wasn't angry, I mean I would never…"

He had a huge lopsided smile on his face and said, "Its okay. I was only joking." William shook his box of candy and handed her a Sweet Tart. "Here."

Scully smirked and took the offering, feeling stupid. "Thanks." She popped the tablet of concentrated, pure sugar into her mouth and it tasted like heaven. 

"Did you like it?" William asked.

"Yeah, tastes good."

William shook his head. "No, I mean being an FBI agent. Sounds cool."

"Oh," she said. "I mostly liked it, but it could be difficult. Very difficult. Especially when I was trying to keep Mulder from getting himself killed or thrown in jail." Scully smiled wistfully at the memories she conjured. It was insane how a memory of being digested in the belly of a man-eating plant or chasing after a giant flukeworm invoked warm fuzzy memories, but they did. 

"I bet you were awesome," William said, lowering his lashes slightly. "I can't believe my real mom was an FBI agent."

Scully sucked in a breath, and covered her surprise with a fake cough. He had called her his real mom. His mom. "Well, it was a long time ago. I haven't been an agent in ten years. I've been a fugitive instead."

"That's cool, too," William said. Scully laughed and so did William. 

She nudged his shoulders again with her own, and tried to stifle a yawn. "I think I'm going to turn in before my eyes pop right out of my head," she said.

"That would be an X-File, right?" William asked.

"How did you know about the X-Files?"

William lifted an eyebrow, smiled. 

"Ah," she said, realizing exactly how he knew. "Just make sure you listen to my thoughts on the subject and not Mulder's. One warped mind in the family is quite enough."

Scully stood up and stretched, yawning once more. "Good night, William. Do you know where you're sleeping?"

He nodded. "My dad and I pitched our tent near the cave."

"Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," he said, and Scully turned to leave. "Dana?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning back. "I guess Christmas is cancelled, huh?"

"Oh-oh," she stuttered, caught off-guard. She had completely forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. It seemed so insignificant with all that had happened. Besides, she wasn't sure what the point was, anymore. She wondered if William might still believe in Santa Claus.

"I don't believe in Santa Claus or anything," he said quickly. "I just thought that maybe… never mind. It's nothing," he said. 

"Will," Scully started. 

William shrugged. "It's okay."

"Well, good night then."

"Good night," he said and popped another Sweet Tart into his mouth. 

Scully's shoulders slumped slightly as she walked away.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Washington DC

December 24, 2012

11:42 pm

Claire looked up towards the faint ball of blue light that was the only indication something unnatural hovered in the sky over the facility. The sky was black all around it; even the light from the crescent moon seemed to be unable to escape the pull of the ship.

Grays, Hybrids, Humans. She really didn't give a damn about any of them. Her only concern was, had always been, her own survival, which right now was intimately linked to whether the Grays aboard the ship above her were able to set their little feet on earth, or not. 

She had warned her superiors about Davis. Not only were his thoughts easy to read in his sleep, but he talked as well. He'd never made any direct statements that could be considered traitorous, which was the reason she could never get him removed from the project, but Claire had known where his heart was -- still with humanity. He was genetically superior to human beings in every way, yet he still longed to be frail, stupid and obsolete. She'd known it would be his downfall, but she truly hadn't expected him to do this. She'd misjudged him, thought him too weak to make a move as bold as removing the children from the lab and running away with them. 

Since they'd stopped seeing each other, he'd hidden his mind from her very well. Claire would give him credit for that. She'd originally seduced him because she believed he would be a great ally, an easily *controlled* ally. In reality, he held all the cards. Success or failure all depended on Tom and his research. Claire wondered if he'd truly understood that. She wasn't convinced, but at least he'd proven he had more guts than she'd thought.

Claire's cell phone chirped inside her suit coat.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I need a few days," she told the caller evenly. She put her free hand on her hip and shifted her weight to the other foot. "No, everything will be ready. We'll be able to move forward. I guarantee it."

Claire hit the off button on the phone, but didn't return it to her pocket. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The mountain air smelled wonderful this time of night, of fallen leaves and clean dirt and little industrial pollution. For December, it was warm outside, more like autumn than early winter, and it felt wonderful to be above the surface, to momentarily poke her head out of the cave they called a laboratory. 

Claire wondered where Tom Davis was at this moment. He was likely looking up to the stars as well, perhaps trying to figure out how to escape his inevitable future. He would know as well as her that avoiding detection was only a temporary possibility. Everyone is found eventually, and traveling with eleven children would only slow him down. It was too exhausting hiding one's own thoughts twenty four hours a day, hiding the thoughts of a bunch of kids would be impossible, gifted though they might be. Tom had the advantage, though, especially since Claire had only managed to wrangle up enough resources to send out Level C Hybrids, also known as Gammas.

He must be heading west. To find the boy. To find William.  
It was a feeling in her gut, nothing more. Finding William would be what she would try to do; technically it was what she had *already* tried to do. Even though Claire thought it unlikely that Tom had learned exactly what the Project leaders and scientists had once let get away, she felt he would be pulled towards William. They all were. 

The Beta Hybrids, not those among them who had remained loyal like herself, but those who had become traitors, called the boy "The One." They believed he fulfilled an ancient and ridiculous prophesy foretold in the old times when the Grays had once tried to help mankind and then been betrayed. William's birth had been the deciding factor causing the shift in loyalties between the Betas and the Gammas. Luckily for herself and the Grays, the frail Gammas possessed a loyalty to the Grays that her own kind could not match. Even though their inferior biology sometimes set the Project back, without the Gammas, Colonization would not have been possible. 

Claire did not believe William was "The One", or the Messiah, but she did believe he might be useful as a tool, ostensibly for the Grays, but in reality, for herself. Whoever possessed William, who was for all intents and purposes an Alpha Hybrid, maybe *the* Alpha Hybrid, but who was so much more, held all the power in the world. More specifically, whoever possessed his blood, held all the power in the world. So, Claire had begun her own operation to retrieve William. 

When the paper trail of his adoption had unbelievably run cold, she'd sent Gammas out to find William and bring him back. Once the experiments with Joy had proven magnetite could produce toxic properties, Claire was even more convinced that she had to find him. Finding William had proved to be more difficult than she would have imagined. Some of the Gammas had infiltrated a cult of former abductees who had been slated for conversion to Betas. The cult had a strong desire to find William as well, and Claire's people used that to their advantage. Last she'd heard one of her operatives was on his way to retrieve William somewhere in Wyoming. She hadn't heard back.

Claire looked at the number pad on her cellular phone. She smiled and punched in a ten digit number. On the screen, the name Tom Davis appeared. She lifted the phone to her ear and listened as it trilled. After there was no answer, she hit the end button. "Worth a try," she said to herself. "Tom, oh Tom… where can you be?"

Hopefully, the Gammas she'd just sent out to determine that fact had better luck than the previous bunch. Her survival depended on it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

The smell of grainy, tan dirt and well-worn leather was like a bouquet of flowers to his senses. Mulder smiled at the sound of the ball hitting the web of his glove. It was a quick slap, followed by a low thud that vibrated his hand slightly. The sun was bright, the sky cloudless, the air brisk, but comfortable. It was a beautiful day.

"Come on, dad! Throw it back already," William shouted from the pitcher's mound.

Mulder looked down, tapped his toe over the rubber home plate below his foot. "Hold your horses, Will," he said, smiling. He threw the ball back to his son. They were just playing catch. Nothing else mattered. 

They tossed the ball back and forth a few more times in happy silence. Occasionally, Mulder would throw the ball high in the air, simulating a pop fly, and William would get under the ball and catch it, then William would throw it back to Mulder like he was trying for a double play, catching the runner off the base. They got the out every time they tried. 

Then the sky, once brilliant cobalt blue, became dark. Not dark as night, but as if heavy storm clouds had suddenly rolled in to block out the sun. William looked up, and Mulder followed his gaze. An enormous, circular-shaped spaceship hovered over them in the air. It appeared to stretch for miles, nearly to the horizon in every direction. Mulder shivered as an old memory crawled over him.

He knew what happened aboard ships like that.

"Let's go, Will. Time to go," Mulder said, reaching his hand out for William before looking at him. When he didn't feel William take his hand, Mulder turned to see why. William, still holding the baseball in one hand, wearing his glove on the other, stood staring up to the ship, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, but somehow not petrified. 

"Will, come on!" Mulder shouted and took a few steps towards William. Suddenly, they were both bathed in a bright blue light, and the mechanical sound of doors opening drowned out the pleasant background noise of nature. 

Mulder took William's wrist, causing his son to drop the ball. "We're leaving!"

William pulled his hand free of Mulder's grasp, though he never took his eyes off of the ship. "No! I know what I have to do," he said.

William dropped his glove and opened his arms wide. His feet lifted off of the ground as he began to drift slowly upwards towards the source of the blue light. "No! No!" Mulder shouted. He grasped at William's clothes, his hands, his feet, but his grip slipped each time he tried until finally William was beyond his reach. "Come back! I just found you. I just got you back! Don't leave!" Mulder's voice broke as he called.

When he was almost too far away for Mulder to clearly see his face, William looked down. "It's okay. I'll come back. I promise," he said and raised his head again as he was taken into the ship. 

The doors closed, the blue light extinguished, and as suddenly as it had appeared, the ship was gone.

"No! No! No!" Mulder continued repeating.

He felt a pressure on his shoulder. 

"Mulder?" a familiar voice said soothingly, but he ignored it. His son was gone. "Mulder, wake up," the voice insisted. Finally, he listened. He always listened he admitted only to himself, and Mulder opened his eyes.

Bright orange, not blue, all around him. The tent. Scully's gentle face. She smiled sympathetically. "It's okay," she said. "You were dreaming."

Mulder sat up; the sleeping bag fell down around his waist. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat. "Yeah," he said simply, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Tell me," Scully asked, sitting on the tent floor beside him. They faced each other, but their legs pointed in opposite directions, their hips touched lightly. Scully caressed his face, the back of his head, the line where his hair met his forehead, calming him.

"Will and I were playing catch and a spaceship, like the one I was on, abducted him," he said, lowering his lashes, not looking into her eyes. "I couldn't save him."

"It's okay. He's safe. I just saw him. He's sleeping."

She wrapped her arms around him and he returned her embrace, holding her tightly, probably too tightly, but he couldn't let her go. "I wonder for how long," he said, his voice scratchy. 

Scully pulled back, a puzzled look creased her face. "Never mind," he said. He kissed her lips, feeling her respond, deepening their contact, molding herself to his body. He pulled her down, so they were both flat, and they continue their kiss. He slipped a hand under her sweater, smoothing his fingers over her soft skin, and slowly pushed her sweater up. She groaned into his mouth and then pulled away, breaking the kiss, but keeping her face close to his.

"Mulder, we can't," she said, a mixture of mischief and regret in her eyes.

"It's early. It's still dark. I doubt anyone is awake yet," he said. "We're healthy," he added. "Wait a minute, why are you dressed already?"

She pushed herself up to her knees and he sat up halfway, supporting his weight on his elbows. "I've been busy this morning," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to hide a smile. 

"Busy? It can't be later than seven, eight o'clock," he said, looking at his watch, and nodding as he confirmed his guess.

"I had to make preparations," she said. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

She kissed him quickly once again, threw his fleece jacket over his face and stood up as high as the dome tent would allow. "Let's see what Santa brought us."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^


	5. Part Five

PART FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Canyon City

December 25, 2012

Early morning

Scully carefully placed the makeshift tin foil star she'd made on top of the four foot high, somewhat sad-looking, cactus which she had propped up in a tin bucket. A sparse string of popcorn garland was wound around it as if the cactus was a barber shop pole. This was like "A Charlie Brown Christmas" southwestern-style. 

William's question about Christmas had gotten her thinking. She'd been restless most of the night wondering if there was anything she could do. The idea finally hit her somewhere between three and four A.M., so she'd thrown on her jacket and set off to work while everyone in camp was still asleep. She'd gathered and tied together some colorful rocks with copper wire and added them to the cactus, then added the popcorn garland after she'd found a leftover bowl near the smoldering coals of the fire pit. Lastly, she'd *borrowed* strings of outdoor running lights that normally lined the door of the cave at night, relocating them between two poles used to hold giant flood lights that lit the camp. The cactus sat below the strings, which bowed slightly downward in the middle.

It wasn't much, nothing like the dreams Scully had about a traditional family Christmas with William and Mulder, but it was better than nothing. She hoped William liked it, if only a little bit. Perhaps she could help him regain some normalcy for the first time in what seemed like quite a while.

When the decorations were finally ready for public view, Scully set on her way to awaken Mulder to let him in on her plan, but was stopped by another early riser.

"Do you need any help?" Rob asked.

Surprised, Scully turned to see Rob scratching his head, throwing his already wayward hair into more chaos. She smiled awkwardly. "I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought it might be nice for everyone to have a little bit of Christmas. Especially Will. He said something to me last night and I couldn't sleep, so…" she trailed off, waved her hand towards the cactus. "It's not much, but --"

"No, it's good," Rob said, interrupting her. "If I had thought about it, I would have grabbed the presents Susan and I bought him. We'd already wrapped them and everything." He looked at the ground, his shoulders sagged. 

"I'm sorry, Rob. I didn't think about what kind of memories this might bring up, for you or for Will. Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she said, crossing her arms like she was cold.

Rob looked up, met her eyes. "I don't think there's any way around the memories either of us has of losing her. But I also think this is a great thing you wanted to do. He's an eleven-year old boy. He should have Christmas."

"I want it to be for everyone. There are other children in the camp, and I get the feeling there has been a lot of stress on the adults as well. I thought maybe we could all have a few hours of joyfulness."

"Let's wake everyone up then," Rob said. "Maybe I can round up some supplies and make eggnog. I heard a rumor about there being eggs in camp last night."

Scully let out a breath through her nose, smiled with more sincerity. "Let me get Mulder first, you get Will and then we can let the others in on it, okay?"

"Okay," he said, nodding his understanding. 

About ten minutes later, Scully and Mulder stood next to the Christmas Cactus -- Scully's arms around Mulder's waist, his arms around her shoulders -- while they waited for Rob and William to return. Mulder looked down into her eyes and squeezed her a little tighter, and she smiled at him. "I would have helped you. You should have woken me up," he said, not angrily.

"I wanted it to be a surprise for everyone," she said softly.

They heard a tent zipper closing, and they both looked towards the sound. Rob gently guided a groggy William, who rubbed his eyes and shuffled his feet, over to where Mulder and Scully stood. Rob had to hold William back by the shoulders to keep him from walking on autopilot.

William finally looked up. He appeared to have seen the cactus first. It was still mostly dark outside. The horizon was a deep shade of blue, but the lights on the string hanging above the cactus still sparkled; the pieces of copper and rocks on the cactus glittered like tinsel; and the tinfoil star on its top twinkled. It was difficult to surprise a telepathic boy, but if Scully had to guess, based on the expression on William's face she'd say she'd succeeded.

"What's going on?" William asked, looking up to Rob.

"Ask Dana," Rob answered, nodding in Scully's direction. "This was her idea."

William turned towards Scully but didn't repeat his question. Scully stepped forward and met his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Will. Looks like it wasn't cancelled after all."

Now fully awake, William smiled, a full toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear, and Scully's heart fluttered. 

"Merry Christmas, buddy," Mulder said, clapping William on the shoulder gently.

"Merry Christmas, Will," Rob echoed. "And to you both. Dana, Mulder -- Merry Christmas."

They both nodded. The four of them were silent for a few minutes. Scully couldn't be sure, but she thought that maybe the others felt the same thing she felt. That somehow this day was not just about Christmas, but maybe a way of mending the fracture that had separated all of them. They had been like three families. There were the Van de Kamps; Mulder and Scully; and William attaching to each group separately to create a floating third. Scully had always believed Christmas was about coming together as a family no matter what, and perhaps she was being presumptuous, but that's what this felt like.

Well," Rob said, breaking the silence and sounding a little uncomfortable. "I don't know about you three, but I could really go for some eggnog. Let's wake up everyone else and really celebrate Christmas."

"You can make eggnog?" Mulder asked. "You may be my new best friend." He and Rob headed off towards the door to the cave, laughing, but turned back when Scully and William didn't follow.

"You guys go ahead. I want to talk to Will for a minute, okay?"

They nodded and continued on. Scully turned her attention back to William who looked up at her expectantly.

"It isn't very much, but I wanted you to have something," she said, unsure why she was nervous. She dug inside the pocket of her jeans and pulled her out her fisted hand, concealing something within it. She straightened her arm, holding her hand in front of him, and turned her wrist so that her palm side faced up. Slowly she lifted her fingers revealing her slightly scratched, golden FBI badge. It was in need of a polish, but it was in otherwise good condition. She had removed it from her credentials case to give it to him. 

"I don't have much need for this anymore and after talking with you last night it sounded like you might be just the one to keep it safe for me," she said, trying to sound casual, rather than hopeful that he wouldn't hate it. She didn't have very many options when it came to giving him a gift. The shopping mall was a long ways away. 

His eyes went wide and William lifted his hand up to softly touch the cool metal. "Is this real?" From the wonder in his voice, Scully's fear that he wouldn't like her gift evaporated.

"Yes," she said, moving her hand forward slightly, wanting him to take it from her. "It was mine when I was an agent."

"You don't want it anymore?" he asked.

"I'm very proud of what it symbolizes, but I want for you to have it. If you want it," she quickly added.

He finally took it from her hand, but continued to look at it like it was treasure from King Tut's tomb. "I want it."

"Sometimes, when I was afraid to do what I knew I *had* to do because it was my job --"

"Like chasing monsters?" William asked, with a touch of awe and a touch of fear.

The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. "Yes, something like that. When I was afraid, I would look at that and remember that sometimes you have to do what scares you most."

"It gave you courage?" he asked. Somehow Scully thought he wasn't necessarily asking about her job anymore.

Scully hesitated, wanting to give him the right answer. "No. A piece of metal can't give you courage or keep you from being afraid. Courage is moving forward in spite of fear and that comes from here," she said, touching William briefly on his chest, over his heart. "But sometimes, objects like this," she pointed to the badge, "remind us."

He seemed satisfied by that, though Scully wasn't really sure why she had said all that. 

"Thanks, Dana," William said, smiling. Then he did something Scully was not expecting. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. "Merry Christmas."

Once she found the words in her throat and dislodged them, Scully said, "Merry Christmas, Will."

Before too long, the entire camp was awake. Rob made enough eggnog to feed a circus, and they ate breakfast, sang songs and forgot for a moment that this would probably be the last Christmas the human race would collectively remember.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 25, 2012

10:05 am

The party continued through most of the morning. Liam meandered around, mostly sticking to himself, but not being completely anti-social. He'd wished people a Merry Christmas, had even joined in a song or two, although he had never celebrated Christmas before. When he'd cared about organized religion, he'd been Jewish and his family had exchanged gifts for Hanukah.

That was a long time ago.

He felt like he was going through yet another crisis of faith. Part of him wanted to embrace these people. He had to admit they were kind and had welcomed him into their little city in the desert. They were a family and if he decided it was what he wanted, they would allow Liam to be a part of it. Yet when he looked at them, all he could think was that they had sold their souls. They'd all been *given* what had been *stolen* from him, but still they had turned their backs on their God.

And they'd taken the Serpent King with them.

Maybe there was a way to reverse the course Jeremiah Smith had set them all on. Maybe there was a way to show William his true destiny and set everything right. The fate of the world was still up for grabs. 

Liam took a sip of his eggnog. It was thick, frothy and he held the cup to his lips while he watched Aiden move away from the others towards the edge of camp. Liam set his drink down, licked the remnants of the eggnog from his upper lip and followed, hoping to catch the alien alone and have a heart-to-heart with him.

After a few quick steps to catch up, Liam got Aiden's attention. They were relatively alone, near one of the piles of junk that had probably been made after the cleanup from the attack the day before. The two friends of Mulder and Scully, Liam couldn't remember their names, had told them the story last night. 

"Excuse me, sir," Liam said, hoping he was showing proper deference to a being as great as Aiden.

Aiden turned around, and Liam lowered his head slightly, not making eye contact at first.

"Are you talking to me?" Aiden asked, seeming surprised to see him. 

Liam nodded. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Aiden smirked and said, "Of course, but please don't call me 'sir'. I came out here to look for some scraps of metal that might make good Christmas decorations. Will you help me?"

Liam didn't really care about adding to the Christmas cheer, but didn’t want to say no to Aiden. He needed his help, or at least he needed information from him. Regardless, Liam walked to the edge of the junk heap and mimicked Aiden, bending over slightly, looking into the pile, for what Liam wasn't really sure. Nor did he care.

"Can I ask you something?" Liam asked tentatively.

"You have questions about me. You want to know why I chose to help the humans," Aiden said simply, as if he were ordering coffee at a restaurant. Liam stood up straight, his eyes wide. Aiden straightened out and faced him.

"You're telepathic, of course. I knew that, but I'd forgotten," Liam said, still awed. "You must know my thoughts before I do."

"Not exactly. Sometimes your thoughts are quite difficult to read, actually. I'm not sure why. But I know you're angry with us," Aiden said.

"I'm not angry," Liam said a little too quickly, sounding like a child to himself. Aiden cocked his head slightly and Liam added, "Not angry, so much as confused. A few days ago, I thought I understood everything, but now nothing seems to make sense." He paused for a moment, then he blurted, "How can you allow yourself to be led by that traitor?" Liam nearly spat the last word. He hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. It was not the subtle approach he'd been trying for. 

"You think Jeremiah is a traitor? You think he is betraying his people," Aiden said.

"No, I think he has convinced you to betray God. He could be a god himself, if not for the choices that he made. For what he did to me and hundreds of others."

"You're upset because he saved your life?" Aiden asked. They spoke to each other as though their words were on springs, bouncing over incomplete thoughts and landing on conclusions. Aiden would hear some of Liam's thoughts in his mind and respond before the words were spoken. 

"I'm upset because I could have been like you, instead of stuck inside this weak human body," Liam said. As he worked out how he felt in his head, he became angrier and angrier. "I was taken! They returned me so that I could become perfect, but then *he* ruined it!" Liam pointed in the direction of the others. Somewhere in the group was Jeremiah Smith, the man who had *healed* him and stopped his chance of ever becoming what Aiden was -- an alien who would help bring in the Fifth Age.

"Liam, Jeremiah saved you from becoming a pawn. You think he took your destiny away from you, but you've got it all wrong. He gave you the chance to make your own choices. I was turned into what I am so that I could be used as a tool. You believe the Grays are here to usher in an era of peace and coexistence with humanity, but all they want is to destroy you, and me once they're done with me. Hasn't that become clear to you yet? Look at what they did," Aiden said with more emotion than Liam had heard in the man so far. 

"You're a liar!" Liam felt like his body was disconnected from his mind. He couldn't believe what he was doing, yet he couldn't stop himself from grabbing Aiden's shirt with both hands and pulling the man close. Aiden didn't resist, he just allowed Liam to do it. "And now you're trying to turn Quetzalcoatl against them! I won't let you do it!" Liam felt insanity crawling inside his body, yet everything seemed so clear to him now. He knew what had to be done.

"Hey! Liam, let him go, man!" Mulder shouted. Liam turned his head towards the sound, but didn't let go of Aiden. Mulder jogged towards them. "Let go!"

Finally, Liam did. He pushed Aiden backward, barely moving him, but letting go of his shirt. Liam looked briefly to Mulder, turned his head towards the path leading out of the canyon, looked to Aiden once more and then ran.

There was no way he could spend one more minute with these people. He hadn't planned on his discussion with Aiden coming to this point, but what he needed to do suddenly had become crystal clear. For now, he had to get as far away as he could, out of range of probing minds and away from confusing pleasantness and familial camaraderie. He had to come up with a plan.

Then he'd return to save William. And kill Jeremiah Smith.

^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 25, 2012

10:23 am

Mulder was subconsciously aware that the Super Soldier, or whatever he was, could probably take care of himself, but he'd been running on instinct. He'd heard shouting and turned to see Liam shoving Aiden, and looking crazier than Mulder had ever seen him during their short time together, which was saying a lot. Mulder had run over to where the two were arguing, but by the time he'd made it there, Liam had run off.

"What the hell was that about?" Mulder asked Aiden, who put his hand up sharply, stopping Mulder from saying more, straining his ear towards the empty space into which Liam had run. When the silence was unbearable to him, Mulder started to ask again. "Aiden?"

Aiden sighed and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Damn it," he said, the words sounding awkward on his normally soft-spoken tongue. "It's too fuzzy."

"Hey, what's going on?" Doggett asked as he and Monica jogged towards Mulder and Aiden's position. Mulder vaguely registered their identical Scooby-Doo Bandaids on their respective right biceps. Seemed that Scully had finally cornered them and given them a shot of the stuff.

"We heard shouting," Monica said once they got closer.

"Liam went postal on Aiden, here, and then he ran off," Mulder said. 

"What were you two talking about, Aiden?" Monica asked.

Aiden seemed not to hear her. He was still trying to hear something in the distance. Finally he shook his head. "I lost him."

"Mulder said he ran off," Doggett said.

Aiden's eyes cleared and he stood up straighter. "I mean, I can't hear his thoughts anymore. I think it was important."

"He'll probably be back later. What were you arguing about? I saw him push you," Mulder said.

"He asked me why I would follow Jeremiah. Liam thinks he's a traitor."

"A traitor to who?" Monica asked.

Aiden was thoughtful, and spoke calmly, but with a sense of urgency Mulder thought was likely atypical from his norm. "To God. That's how he sees the Grays. I read his mind. He was abducted like I was, but unlike me, he was healed by Jeremiah before the alien virus could take effect and turn him into a Replicant. His mind told me something about that cult he belonged to, though he referred to it as his family. They believed that William is the one mentioned in The Prophesy, like I do, but that he is meant to usher in an age of peaceful coexistence between humans and aliens. He doesn't believe the aliens want to destroy mankind, and so he believes Jeremiah, myself and the others in camp are traitors because we wanted to stop Colonization. Liam has been waiting for Colonization since he was returned."

Mulder heard everything Aiden had said, but his mind was still chewing over the part where he'd said William was mentioned in "The Prophesy." And that Aiden believed it, too. 

"That alien virus thing sounds like the same thing that happened to you, Mulder," Doggett said, interrupting Mulder's thoughts before he could verbally ask Aiden what prophesy he was talking about.

"It is the same thing," Aiden said matter-of-fact. "You were slated to become what I am, Mulder. You'd been chosen many years before your abduction. Jeremiah believed for a long time that he had failed to save you from my fate when the Grays took him just after they found you in the woods. You and I are like two different stages of a butterfly."

"I guess that makes me the caterpillar," Mulder said. "No offense, but I think that's how I prefer it."

Aiden smiled. "You and I are not really that different. Even now. In many ways, we're the same. We both are immune to the virus, we both have the human tolerance for iron that the Grays lack and we both have telepathic skills. You're just more frail than I am."

"I don't know what Scully's been telling you, but I *let* her kick my ass," Mulder deadpanned. It took a moment, but Aiden smiled, and Monica and Doggett laughed. Finally, Mulder smiled, too. "Seriously, though, I don't know about the immunity thing, or the iron thing, those are things I need to discuss with Scully, but I am not telepathic. There was a brief time many years ago when I could hear people's thoughts, but that ability was taken from me."

Aiden shook his head. "You can't take away a gift like that. You have just fallen out of practice. You've had dreams," Aiden said, lengthening the last word to a whisper, and Mulder felt a chill go through his body. "It's how you found your son. It was as much his ability as it was yours. You were drawn to each other, and you each reached out."

Mulder swallowed nothing. His throat was dry. "Aiden, tell me about The Prophesy." Mulder *had* dreamed, but he needed to know if they were just manifestations of his fears of losing William or of what was to come. In hindsight, his previous dreams had come true, not the details, not playing basketball with Kevin McHale, but their essence. Mulder hoped that had been merely coincidence, not destiny.

Aiden's forehead crinkled and he shook his head. "I think it's better if you hear about that from Jeremiah. He'll be more objective than I can be. Besides, I think we should tell him about Liam as soon as possible."

"Where did you find that guy, Mulder?" Doggett asked, adding in a good-natured jab, "He's crazier than you."

Mulder smirked. "We found him tied up to a chair in the Van de Kamp's bedroom."

"I guess that explains it then," Doggett said.

Monica said, "He's probably just blowing off steam. I doubt he can get far on his own. I'm sure he'll come back when he's thirsty or hungry."

Aiden said, "No, something has snapped inside his mind. I couldn't hear everything, because like Mulder, he also has telepathic abilities, though I don't think he knows it either. It's harder to read the mind of someone who has the same power, especially if they don't want you to."

Aiden looked out towards the empty space where Liam had disappeared and took in a breath. He said, "I think he could be dangerous."

"I don't think we have to worry too much about that guy. He doesn't strike me as someone who can accomplish much by himself. He couldn't have gotten very far on foot, anyway," Doggett said.

Mulder followed Aiden's gaze. He couldn't hear the kid's thoughts, but Mulder was sure Aiden had a different view of Liam. The question now was what to do.

^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 25, 2012

10:54 am

Doggett absently rubbed the skin near the site where Scully had injected him with serum. The Christmas party had wound down, though everyone still milled around in small clusters, drinking eggnog and generally full of cheer. He took a sip of his drink, winced when it didn't taste the way he expected it to taste. Maybe he'd gotten a bad batch, but this stuff tasted like metal.

"It's the serum," Monica said, sitting down next to him. They shared a split log bench tucked back near the canyon wall, below a rock overhang. From here, Doggett could see the entire camp except for the far edges and high above. 

"Excuse me?" he asked, still making the face. 

"The serum. Dana said it might make food taste bad," Monica said. 

Their shoulder's touched lightly. Doggett sniffed the eggnog for good measure, put the glass down on the ground, finally giving up.

"I'm still not sure why we had to take the stuff in the first place. We're fine. If we were going to get sick, I think we would have already," he said.

"Dana thinks we just got lucky. She thinks that because we've been around the red rocks since the storm started that the virus probably died before we could get infected with it."

"What about Gibson and Joy? They're not sick either," Doggett said.

"Dana wants to inject them as well, but she doesn't really think they need it," she said.

"Why not?"

"She thinks they're immune. Like Aiden. Like William," Monica said. 

"Can you believe all of this?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, I don't really believe in fate. I just think that life unfolds and you re-act to it, but man," he said, then gave a short whistle, "talk about coincidence, huh?" 

Monica smiled. She took hold of the hand Doggett rested on his knee and gently squeezed. He shook his head, and smiled with one side of his face, confused. "I, for one, am very happy about this coincidence. I'm really glad we *bumped* into each other at Gibson's." Doggett got the sense he was being teased. Monica's smile faded and she looked away from him, down towards her lap, but she held onto his hand. 

"John, I'm sorry it took all of this for me to find you again. I should have contacted you sooner," she said, sadness in her voice. "All of this has made me see how much time you wasted --"

"Me?" he said, pointing to himself, eyebrows raised, his shoulders stiffening defensively. Monica quickly put her fingers to his lips, silencing him, and looked into his eyes. 

"Yes, you… and me. We both know where we were headed back then. You were stupid for pushing me away and I was stupid for letting you," she said quickly. Her fingers were still on his lips, and she slowly slid them away, down his chin and his neck, finally resting on his shoulder. After barely a moment, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips caressing his somewhere between chaste and smoldering. Just as quickly as she had done it, she pulled away from him and stood up. He was stunned stupid. He couldn't move. Doggett wasn't sure what had just happened, but it was certainly more pleasant than the injection he'd gotten earlier.

"Merry Christmas, John," Monica said, a slight smile spreading across her blushed cheeks.

"Monica," he started. It was good that his words were coming back to him, even if it was only one at a time. 

"I need to check on Joy," she said, lowering her lashes as she turned away from him. She walked away, her hips swaying gently as she moved. He sat for another minute or so watching her, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

He could be dense sometimes, he would admit freely, but back when he'd been an investigator, he would have called what Monica had just done "a clue."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Keet Seel

December 25, 2012

5:13 pm

They'd managed to drive pretty deeply into the valley, yet they still were forced to travel four hours on foot. Scully had read about the place they were trying to find, had seen pictures and watched documentaries. She'd always wanted to visit, having been an amateur student of anthropology, but had never had the chance. It was difficult to see, but as they rounded a bend in the trail, Scully could just barely make out the corner of the alcove containing the ruins of a city that was abandoned over seven hundred years ago. Keet Seel, meaning broken pottery in Navajo, was in front of them.

Aiden, Monica and Doggett had stayed behind to watch over Joy and the camp, but the rest of them -- herself, Gibson, Mulder, William and of course, Rob -- followed Jeremiah Smith into the valley. He led them up the steep trail, and as they turned a corner, the site came into full view. Magnificent. It was the only word -- and a pale word at best -- that could be used to describe what Scully saw. Nestled into the vast sandstone canyon wall, the ruins looked tiny. Streaking down the alcove wall above the ruins, were dark iron stains, which even in the waning light of day were clearly visible.

They passed an abandoned ranger cabin along the trail, designed like a traditional Navajo Hogan. This was the place tourists would meet their guide who would take them into the ancient Anasazi dwellings. 

"Wonder if the ranger is still nearby," Scully asked nobody in particular. This would be among the safest places on earth, deep within the red rocks the virus would not have been able to survive.

"He's gone," Gibson said. "Aside from the lizards and the birds, we're it for miles."

She didn't counter what Gibson had said, but Scully watched William's brow crinkle as he looked out in the direction they had come from.

"What is it, sweetie?" Scully whispered to William, touching his shoulder lightly as she looked down at his face. She didn't want to embarrass him, to draw attention to every little movement he made. There was already so much weight on his shoulders.

Earlier, towards the end of the Christmas party, Jeremiah had asked if she and Mulder were up to an overnight hike. He wanted to tell them something. She wasn't sure why he needed to take them camping to tell them a story, but she also had learned to trust him. She was wary of leaving the safety of Canyon City, especially now that Liam had apparently snapped and run off into the wild, but when Jeremiah told her that he wanted William to come as well, she felt easier. She'd made up her mind that she would not let go of him again.

He shook his head, smiled awkwardly. "Nothing. I thought I heard something, is all."

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, changing the subject to the difficult physical trek they were on. "Do you need some more water, or a rest?"

He shook his head. "How about you?" 

"Me? I'm doing fine, though I'll be honest. I'm not as in shape as I used to be," she said lightly. 

"If you need help, just let me know," William said sincerely.

Scully smiled. "Thanks. I'll do that." William nodded and then moved up ahead of her, towards the front of the line where Jeremiah Smith was in the lead. 

"Oh, my god," Scully said, her mouth gaping open. They'd finally reached the foot of the sheer rock wall, where forty feet up was Keet Seel. She'd seen an Anasazi ruin before. She'd tried to forget about it for ten years. But this was absolutely like nothing she'd seen before, and she could only guess that once they'd climbed up, it would be even more impressive.

She stood shoulder to shoulder next to Mulder as they looked above. "Look at that," he said, pointing to the wall. "Can you believe they used to climb up using those?" There was a wooden ladder that had been bolted to the rock by the US Park Service. It was one of the few modifications made to accommodate tourists. Near the ladder, going all the way up to the top, were shallow impressions carved into the rock, looking like ancient footprints in the sand. Anasazi men, women, children -- old and young alike -- had used the toeholds to climb nearly vertically to their homes. 

"Gives me vertigo just thinking about it," Scully said.

"You afraid of heights, Scully?" Mulder asked. "How come I never knew that?"

"I'm not so much afraid of heights as I am afraid of falling, and you never knew because a girl's gotta have some secrets. That and it’s a ridiculously cliché fear," she rambled. 

"Let's hurry up and get up top," Jeremiah called. "The light's fading fast and we need to build a fire." He secured his backpack tightly around his body, and began the forty-foot climb to the top of the sandstone wall to Keet Seel. Gibson, Rob and William were already scrambling close behind him.

"Come on, Scully. You go first. I'll catch you if you fall," Mulder said, nudging her towards the ladder. "Besides, it'll give me a better view."

Scully suppressed a smile, and elbowed Mulder in the stomach.

He grabbed his belly and exaggerated a groan. "Of the landscape below," he said, not even trying to sound believable. 

Once at the top, the ruins were even more amazing than they had been from below. There were one hundred and sixty rooms at Keet Seel, and they looked as usable today as they probably had seven hundred years ago. They all explored in silence for several minutes, in deference to the ancient ones who had lived there. Finally, Jeremiah Smith called them over to a corner somewhat away from the main part of the village where he had built a modest fire.

"Here in this place, surrounded by the spirits of the past, I will tell you a story," he began.

As the light faded from the sky and the canyon below them became black, they listened. Scully also watched William, who continued to glance out into the night. She wondered what he saw. She knew he wasn't looking with his eyes. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Keet Seel

December 25, 2012

7:38 pm

In the distance, a coyote howled, capping off the eerie mood that Jeremiah Smith had already established. In his life, Mulder had heard more ghost stories, witnessed more horror than most humans dreamed up, and knew the general theme of the tale Smith was about to tell, but somehow being in this place made the hair on the back of his neck stand up all the same. He had the great sense that he was about to learn the meaning of life -- all life. What was more, Mulder felt the presence of the ancient people who once lived here. He only hoped the five of them were welcomed guests, and not seen as encroachers by the spirits.

They sat on the ground in a circle around the small campfire Smith had built. Light flickered and bounced off his face, casting moving shadows all around them. Scully sat to Mulder's left. They sat crossed-legged, their knees barely touching. Between Scully and Smith was William, and to Mulder's right were Gibson and Rob.

"To humans, this place is ancient," Smith began. "But ancient is a relative term. Seven hundred years ago the last of the people who built this place left it. Their ancestors before them had come here for protection. They had built fortresses here and throughout the desert, all within the red rocks, because they knew it was the only way to keep my ancestors away."

"When you say your ancestors, do you mean aliens?" Rob asked without any hint of the condescension he'd had during all prior discussions on the subject.

Smith smiled indulgently. "Yes, in the way you're thinking. You see us as alien, or extraterrestrial biological entities," he said, winking at Mulder, "but that is not entirely accurate. You see, my people were here first."

Rob laughed, thinking that Smith was joking. Smith kept a hint of a smile on his face, making him appear grandfatherly, and nodded. "It's true, in a manner of speaking."

"It's never been proven," Scully interjected, looking to Rob, "but it's possible that life began on earth after meteors blasted off of alien worlds and landed here full of microbes."

"I would say it's more than possible. That's exactly what happened," Gibson said. "Remember what you found in me?"

Scully looked to him sympathetically, probably remembering all those years ago when Gibson had been William's age and turned her scientific world into a tailspin. 

"What did you find in him?" Rob asked, sounding like he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"In all of us, actually. I found links between our DNA and alien DNA," Scully said.

"And that means, what exactly?"

"That we all have a common ancestor," Mulder said. "Makes 'Lucy' look somewhat insignificant, doesn't it?"

"So, aliens sent their DNA to earth and we grew out of it? We're all aliens? That's what you're saying." Rob asked, not pleased by Smith's revelation.

"Yes and no. My people were not much more developed than life on earth was, so "sent" is a strong word. What became life on earth, started on my world long before," Smith said. 

"Almost a million years ago," Smith continued, "billions of years after those first microbes, hominids who would eventually become human still lived on the African plains, able to walk bi-pedally, but barely more than the apes they had been generations before. By that time, my people had already developed a rich culture and sophisticated technology, had even begun exploring the universe.

"We came upon earth and very early man. Realizing we had common ancestry, and observing how backwards and unsophisticated humanity was, my people took it upon themselves to change that. They made contact," Smith said.

"Isn't that against the Prime Directive, or something?" Rob asked.

Smith smirked. "It wasn't 'Star Trek,' Mr. Van de Kamp."

"So, let me guess," Mulder said. "Cro-Magnon Man--"

Scully interrupted him. "Mulder, Cro-Magnon Man is the same as modern man and is not a million years old. More like twenty-five thousand."

"Fine. Homo Habilus or *Homo Erectus* then," he said looking pointedly at Scully, who simply rolled her eyes at him, "Homo Erectus, being unsophisticated in interstellar space travel, and helped by the fact that if the aliens set foot on earth it's suicide, assumed the lights they saw in the sky, the ominous thoughts in their minds were God. That wasn't necessarily the alien's plan, but it appealed to your people's ego so they didn't contradict it. Perhaps at first they believed they could help a weak species achieve maximum potential, so they proceeded to introduce theological tidbits and words of wisdom, maybe even assisted with some written language and mathematics giving new meaning to the term 'distance learning.' Somewhere along the way, the aliens realized just how much man worshipped them and they got off on it. Mankind was like one giant sociological lab experiment to them." He turned to Scully. "This explains the artifact and the million-year old spaceship you found in Africa. The texts you found on it." Back to Smith, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Smith nodded. "I had planned to tell you an elaborate, superfluous tale, but that is close enough. I guess we can head back now," he said, his voice dry.

"That can't be everything. It doesn't explain why the aliens would want to destroy us now," Scully said. She took a deep breath and put her hands on the knees of her crossed legs. She started slowly and softly. "Its been a long time since I believed in God in exactly the same way I was taught in Catechism, but I can't believe that God is simply some sadistic sentient creature who, like a child, has decided to squash the ants running around in his farm. If the aliens are God to us, and that is what you're saying, then who is your God? Who created you? That can't be everything!" She looked to Smith, her brow furrowed with anger and something Mulder wished he didn't see -- lost faith. Rob was nodding along, agreeing with what she had said as though she was continuing to speak. She waited, and they were all quiet for a moment, all wondering how Smith would respond.

Except for William. He'd been so quiet, Mulder had almost forgotten he was still there.

Smith opened his mouth to speak, his jaw softly clicking before he was stopped short by William, who stood up suddenly as if his bottom was attached to a spring. He looked out into the black desert canyon beyond the pueblo. Mulder tried to follow his gaze, but he saw only a sliver of moonlight and billions of stars above. 

"Someone's coming," William said, still looking towards the nothingness, his voice hushed.

"Who?" Smith asked. He sounded alarmed. If Jeremiah Smith was alarmed, and didn't know who was coming, that was cause for some concern. 

Mulder turned towards Gibson, who shook his head. "I can't hear anyone," he whispered. 

Mulder mouthed "Liam" to Gibson. 

Gibson raised his shoulders and his eyebrows and shook his head again. "I don't know" he mouthed back.

Instinctively, Mulder's hand moved to his side, searching for his absent sidearm. When he couldn't find it, he rose up and stood in front of William, placing his hand on William's shoulder protectively.

He tried not to hold his breath as he waited for a monster to swallow them all whole.

^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 25, 2012

Mid-afternoon (earlier)

They hadn't stayed long in Missouri. Few truly good things could be said about being turned into a super human, but one was that sleep was much less necessary. Tom had driven the maroon, fifteen-passenger conversion van he'd stolen through most of the night and all of Christmas Day, finally crossing the border into Arizona a little past one in the afternoon.

Still, Tom felt exhausted. But even if he'd been handed a pillow and a comfortable bed, he could not have rested for long. William had become an irresistible magnet, and Tom was merely an iron shaving, powerless to stop himself and the others around him from hurling towards that force. He had no real idea of where he was going, just a sense that he was on the right path. Somehow he knew he had gone a little further than their original destination, but that it was okay. He'd occasionally glance towards Chris or one of the other children, and they would simply nod, letting him know they agreed with his own intuition. 

They reached the edge of a cliff where the road had flared out into a gravel parking lot overlooking an enormous canyon, book-ended by a huge mesa mirroring the one they stood on. There was an SUV parked in the lot, and Tom pulled up along side of it, shut the engine off and breathed deeply.

He looked to Chris sitting in the passenger seat. "Looks like this is the end of the road. Literally." Tom opened the door and stepped out of the van, and the others followed him, eager to stretch out. Tom walked to the SUV and pressed his face to the window, cupped his hands around his eyes to minimize the glare, and peered in. "Nobody's inside." He hadn't expected anyone to be, but they'd seen many cars with bodies during their trip. He needed to be certain. Tom turned his head to Chris. "Where do you think they are?"

Chris stood near the edge of the cliff and the other children stepped up near him one by one. Chris lifted his chin up, nodded west through the canyon. "Out there." There was a trail leading a thousand feet down to the canyon floor below. It was where enthusiastic hikers normally began their long hike first to Tsegi Point, then on to Keet Seel. Chris started down the trail, and Tom stepped forward quickly.

"Wait, Chris. We can't go down there. We're not prepared to wander in the desert. We don't have much water left and virtually no camping supplies. If we get lost, or he's not there, well… that's not good." Tom laughed nervously.

Chris knotted his brow. "He's out there. You know it. We all know it." The rest of the children nodded and muttered their agreements. For Tom, finding William was like a pilgrimage to Mecca. For the children, it was more like finding a long lost brother. They weren't genetically related, but one couldn't underestimate the bond of a common experience, even if that experience occurred individually.

Tom opened his mouth to object to Chris's wish, but closed it quickly, biting his tongue and drawing blood in the process.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a whirring. 

He strained his ear towards the sound. It was low and fast, growing louder. Closer. And then he saw its source -- a helicopter rose over the mesa on the other side of the canyon.

Tom tried to blink, but his eyelids felt glued open, and his tongue felt sticky. It was only seconds later -- time felt slower -- when he finally said, "Get back in the van!" His feet moved next and he gestured to the children, who seemed equally stunned. Once their feet moved, they moved fast, but before they could reach the van, the helicopter whooshed over them, not more than a hundred feet up, went past them several yards, and stopped. It hovered for a moment, and set down like a falcon hunting its prey. The chopper blocked the only road out of the parking lot, not that their van could out run a military helicopter anyway.

The blades continued to rotate as five men dressed in military BDU's jumped out of the bird. Each man held an M-16, though Tom wasn't afraid of the machine gun. He was positive the bullets couldn't kill him, only slow him down. What did make his stomach roll was what the soldier last out of the aircraft held in his other hand. 

The aliens had made Tom nearly indestructible, nearly superior to his makers, except for one common alien weakness, which wasn't the allergy to iron. If pierced deeply in the right place on the back of the neck, he would die. And so would the children.

Tom looked around for any possible escape. He saw only iron-soaked dirt and yucca plants. From the look of the men they were Gamma Hybrids, yet they were able to withstand the geology surrounding them. Apparently his anti-toxin vaccine worked just as he believed it would, even on the flawed Gammas. And Tom had one guess as to who would have administered the vaccine to these hybrids.

"Claire," he muttered. 

He wondered if she had also gone ahead with the plan and administered it to the entire Gray population hovering over them, which would allow the third and final phase of Colonization to begin. He didn't think so. The skies would be swarming with triangular-shaped aircraft, hunting out the remaining survivors in the red zones. The aliens wouldn't bother using a human helicopter to search for them. 

Also, administering the vaccine with the children gone would be too dangerous. Like a tetanus shot, the aliens would need regular boosters as long as they inhabited earth and the only way to make the vaccine was with access to the antibodies in the children's blood. They could synthesize the compounds to some degree, but that was a gamble. Time would eventually force them to go through with the plan with or without the children, but with would be much, much better.

All of that meant these soldiers would want the children alive. He wasn't sure he would be so lucky. His only hope was that maybe the project leaders would see him as indispensable because of his knowledge of the vaccine and the hybrid program. It was a slim hope.

"You'll have to come with us. All of you," the Captain said, sounding a little too much like the Terminator for Tom's comfort. The last man out, the one with the weapon Tom feared, stepped forward. He depressed a button on the silver object and a thin metal spear spiked out. 

"We're not going anywhere." Tom's voice wavered. He felt shame for not being braver in the face of death. "And you're a lying bastard." Tom held his arms out, trying to keep the children behind him.

The soldiers didn't say another word -- didn't even manage to smirk or give any indication they had any feelings on what they were about to do. The captain simply nodded to the others and in unison they all started towards Tom and the children, taking quick, even steps, but not running.

"No! Stay back!" Tom shouted both to the soldiers and to the children. 

When the soldiers were five feet away, they stopped. Pained expressions formed on all of their faces and they began to shake. Before they could turn and run away, black metallic scab-like marks appeared on their exposed skin and cracked apart. The men barely had time to scream in agony, but they did briefly before it was over. All five, including the captain and the man with the ice pick, were dead on the ground. Their bodies continued to convulse. 

Tom's eyes grew wide. That should not have happened.

He looked through the tinted window of the helicopter cockpit. The pilot's face was panicked, but he quickly recovered and locked angry eyes with Tom. The chopper lifted off the ground, turned around like it would flee in the direction of the road. It was a hundred yards away when it spun around again.

"Run!" Tom shouted. He pushed any child he could reach in the direction of the trail down the canyon. Making sure they were all ahead of him, he followed. Normally the children were prone to silence, even when they were afraid, keeping their vocalizations inside their minds. Not this time. Tom heard shrieking with his ears, though some of it was his own. 

As they scrambled down the steep gravel trail, behind them something cut through the air and exploded. All at once, Tom felt white-hot heat on his back, intense pressure in his ear drums and the earth shaking as a missile hit one of the vehicles. He felt it all again when another hit the second truck. 

"Go! Go! Go!" He looked around for any place to go. Next the chopper would come for them. He had seen the understanding of the situation in the pilot's eyes, and Tom was fairly certain that a missile would do just as well as the ice pick in eliminating them all. Nothing, not even Tom, was indestructible. 

There was a mini canyon between the trail and the cliff's wall. It went down several feet and was protected by an overhang. "Down there," he said, pointing. The children had either decided on their own, or had heard his idea in their heads, because they had already begun jumping down into the hole. Tom was pretty certain that if the pilot fired a missile near them, they'd be buried, but he didn't have any better ideas. If they stayed on the trail, they would just be target practice for the pilot.

The chopper flew over them as Tom, bringing up the rear, jumped in. It hovered, not directly above them, but in the line of site of the trail and their hiding place. Tom held his breath, waiting for the end.

Then the chopper was gone.

Tom let out his breath. The only sound was the crackling fire above them.

"He only had two missiles," Chris said, trying to catch his breath. He hesitated, and added, "And he was scared shitless." His cheeks stretched wide with his grin, and Tom couldn't hold back a nervous laugh. 

"Come on. Let's get out of here." Tom stood up and put his hand on another child's shoulders, preparing to help Sandra, a ten year-old little girl, out of the ditch. "I guess you got your wish, Chris. Looks like we have a hike in front of us afterall."

Once they were all safely out, and had surveyed the still flaming van and truck for anything salvageable -- there wasn't -- they began the walk down the trail. They had no map, no water, no time and no supplies.

Only a destination.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 25, 2012

Mid-afternoon

"Oh, sorry," John muttered. He and Monica were washing Christmas party dishes together in a bucket of hot water that had been warmed over the perpetually burning campfire. They'd plunged their hands in under the water reaching for the same plate and a little splash of water had spurted up, hitting Monica in the face.

"Did I get it in your eye?" he asked.

She wiped at her face with her shirt sleeve, and smiled. "No, I'm fine. Just a little on my cheek, I think."

Earlier, just after she'd kissed him, she'd worried she'd made a mistake. She wasn't sure why exactly. There was so little to risk. She knew he cared about her. She knew he was attracted to her. But she also knew that John came to understandings and made decisions at his own, very unique pace, and that rushing that pace could backfire. 

They'd washed the dishes in comfortable silence. Asking a benign question here; making a meaningless comment there. 

He stepped forward to stand close to her. He pulled his hand into his own sleeve and lifted it up to her face like he was holding a towel. "I got it," he said softly, sheepishly. Monica had never known John Doggett to be sheepish. Reticent, yes, but she could actually see red in his cheeks. 

"Thanks," she breathed. He'd replaced his sleeve with his fingertips, still a little moist from the water, but soft. Then he kissed her. It was not quick like earlier. They lingered together, moved their lips over each other's, taking their time.

Then a sound broke them apart.

"Jesus, was that what I think it was?" John asked, stepping back. His hands were on his hips as he looked up towards the clear blue sky following a black speck flying away from them. She watched it, too.

"If you think it was a helicopter, then yes," Monica answered, feeling her mouth gaping open, but not sure what to do about it. 

"That can't be a good thing," John said. 

"Do you think it saw us?" she asked.

"It wasn't too close, so its hard to say. I hope not." 

It surprised her, but panic rushed up her body. "Oh, God. Where's Joy?" Monica twisted around, searching for any sign of the little girl. She'd been so preoccupied with whatever was happening between herself and John that she hadn't seen much of Joy during the day.

"Monica, it's okay. She's over there," John said, soothingly, pointing towards a small group of kids. "She's safe." His hand felt warm on her shoulder, and she welcomed his reassurance. 

She let out a breath. "It came from the direction Jeremiah Smith took the others."

He nodded. "Yeah, too bad we don't have radios out here. I hope they're okay."

"You think it found them?"

"At this point, I have absolutely no clue. We should probably tell Aiden, though. Maybe he can find a way to find out if they're okay."

"You'll do anything to get out of doing the dishes, won't you?" she asked half-heartedly.

"This is the one time I'd gladly do them all day long."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 25, 2012

Later afternoon

Liam had heard the explosion. From a nearby cliff, he'd watched the man and eleven children descend into the valley, headed in the same direction William had gone with the traitors earlier. When he thought it was clear, Liam scrambled down to the wreckage.

The van that the man and the kids had driven was smoldering, along with the truck that Liam had ridden in with William from Wyoming. Liam kicked dirt on the debris. For half of that trip, he'd been tied up. All he'd wanted was to take William to safety, to honor him. And how had that been repaid? They'd killed his friends Warrick and Chase and taken him to live with Jeremiah Smith.

Liam choked out a dry cough. His lips were cracked and his throat felt scratchy. He hadn't left the camp more than eight hours ago, but he was thirsty. Luckily, it was December rather than July. He'd found a little water in a puddle earlier, so he felt certain he'd find some more when he needed it. God would not let him fail again.

He wandered over to the bodies of the five soldiers. They looked just like Chase and Warrick after they'd died just as suddenly. Liam had no idea what could cause such a thing. Dana and Mulder thought William had something to do with it. But then they would. They would believe their own son could do something like this, which was exactly why Liam needed to act soon, get William away from them and the others. 

He bent down, picked up an M-16 that one of the soldiers still clutched, and an extra clip from the soldier's belt. He took a couple of steps, meaning to leave, but he saw a sparkle. The sun glinted off of something silver. He'd seen something like that before. He quickly grabbed the ice pick as well, pressed the button, sheathing the dangerous end and stuffed it in the front pocket of his jeans. 

He turned in the direction of his hiding place, stopped, turned sharply on his heels and instead headed down the trail into the canyon.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Keet Seel

December 25, 2012

8:46 pm

Mulder was very aware of the campfire. They couldn't have a more conspicuous beacon guiding whoever was out there to their exact location. Fortunately, they had the advantage. Make that "an" advantage. They were forty feet up in the cliffs and the only ways up were one wooden ladder and a treacherous ancient toehold. 

Mulder heard a loud click as Scully checked the clip on her weapon. She stood next to him, peered down towards the ground over the ledge.

"Do you see anything?" he asked her, keeping his voice low.

"No," she said, matching his tone.

Mulder turned around to the others. Neither of you know who's down there?" Mulder directed the question to Smith and Gibson. "Is it possible it's just an animal?"

"Not an animal," Gibson said seemingly in a fog.

"No, definitely not," Smith confirmed, seeming uncertain in contradiction to his words.

"Aren't you supposed to be telepathic?" Scully asked, edginess in her voice.

Smith stepped up next to her, so that all the adults stood in a line along the edge of the terrace with the exception of Rob, who was next to William behind them all. They probably looked like a target practice arcade; all lined up, ready to be knocked down like they were metal cutouts on a spring.

"Whoever's out there is adept at hiding their thoughts," Smith said. "Usually that means they're telepathic, too."

"Aiden said Liam was telepathic," Mulder said. He hoped it was Liam. Aiden believed he was dangerous, and Mulder didn't doubt it, but he was one unarmed man and they were five adults with Scully's aim. He'd take that bet any day.

"Will, stay back!" Rob whispered loudly.

William ignored his father and stepped up to the edge between Smith and Scully. He knelt down to peer over further without feeling unstable. Smith knelt down next to him and put his hand on William's shoulder. William turned his head, looked up.

"If you focus, you'll be able to hear them," Smith said calmly.

William shook his head. "It's too fuzzy. If you can't, how can I?"

"Because your gift is much stronger than mine. Even stronger than Gibson and I put together. You're just out of practice and haven't had anyone to teach you. Close your eyes."

William did and turned his head back towards the canyon floor like he was still looking with his eyes and not his mind. Everything was quiet. 

Mulder heard shuffling footsteps in the loose dirt for the first time. They moved closer and there were definitely more than one pair of feet. When the tension was so great Mulder wasn't sure he could keep quiet any longer, William broke the silence for him -- and started laughing hysterically.

"Will, shhh!" Rob said, confused. "They'll hear you."

William didn't stop laughing, or couldn't. "I. Can't. Help. It," he finally spit out between gasping breaths. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life." William was actually clutching his stomach, doubled over from his laughter.

"What is he talking about?" Rob asked Mulder. "Nobody said anything to him."

Mulder shrugged. "At least we know it's not Liam."

William sighed heavily several times, trying to catch his breath. Once he finally had his laughter under control and his eyes were wiped clear of tears, he stood up. He put his hand on Scully's arm. "It's okay, Dana."

Scully's brow was tightly knotted. She looked unconvinced.

"Gibson, hand me that flashlight," Mulder said. Gibson took a moment to look around, found the large, trigger activated miniature spotlight they'd brought with them, handed it to Mulder.

Mulder pulled the switch and the power of a million candles shown down to the ground below. Near the ladder, huddled together, were around a dozen kids of various ages and one grown man.

When William spoke, he did not sound fearful or apprehensive. He was calm. "They came for me."

Mulder thought, *of course they did.*

^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Keet Seel

December 25, 2012

9:59 pm

It took Tom and the children less than ten minutes to climb the ladder to the top of the pueblo. The hike from the parking lot had been an exhausting four hours with no provisions, but once they had arrived, Tom felt rejuvenated. He sent the children up first and made sure not to look down when he followed. He felt jittery, and though the fall wouldn't kill him, it would be a bitch. 

He hoisted himself up the final rung and was greeted by three apprehensive adult faces, two of whom -- a man and a woman -- he thought he recognized, along with one twenty-something kid Tom definitely recognized, and one curious, but kind-faced Gray that Tom could have drawn a picture of with his eyes closed. 

Of course, there was also one boy.

"William, I can't believe I found you," he heard himself say a little crazily. He bent at the waist, put his hands on his knees so that he could look into William's eyes.

"Hold it, sir," the woman said. She held a gun, but wasn't pointing it at him. Tom had only seen photographs, but he was certain the woman was Dana Scully, William's birth mother. The taller man at her side looked like her partner, Fox Mulder -- William's father. Both of them had protectively stepped in front of William, along with the other man that Tom had never seen before. Tom had heard rumors that Mulder and Scully were still alive over the years, but he never expected them to be with William. Ironically, until recently nobody involved with The Project cared much about finding either the parents or the son, not until the experiments with Joy had proven that injecting the children with magnetite compounds would make their blood toxic to the Grays. 

"Turn around, please," Scully said. "Mulder, check him."

Yep, definitely Mulder and Scully.

Mulder stepped forward, twirled his finger, silently telling Tom to face the other way. Mulder patted him down, checking for weapons. "He's clean." 

Tom turned back around, smirked. 

"Just out taking a moonlight stroll?" Mulder asked.

Tom didn't mean to, but couldn't help chuckling. He looked to William, who was smiling. Inside his mind, Tom heard *They're just protective of me. They're cool, though. Let me know if you need my help.* William winked as Chris slung his arm around him, pulling William away from the adults and the campfire with the other children. William turned his head to look back and added good naturedly, *And it's 'Will' by the way. Nice to meet you.*

Scully cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. 

Tom stood up straight and squared his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe I'm here. It's been a very long day. I didn't think we'd make it and I was beginning to think I dreamed this place."

Scully holstered her weapon and crossed her arms, stiffening. "Sir, I think you better start by telling us who you all are and how you came to be here in the middle of nowhere," she said.

"He came for Will. Followed him here," Mulder said softly, furrowing his brow and looking at the ground. His face showed confusion, like he was pulling information from someplace in his mind he didn't quite understand. "Those kids were in the laboratory with Joy. They're the kids Monica couldn't save."

Tom's head turned quickly at the mention of Joy's name. She had disappeared without a trace months ago and Tom had no idea he would find her with William. Why he should be surprised, he didn't know.

"You helped them," Mulder said with wonder in his voice, finally looking up and meeting Tom's eyes. He had a slight smile stemming from the corner of his mouth. "You allowed Monica to take her, though Monica didn't know that."

"Joy is with you?" Tom asked.

Mulder nodded infinitesimally. Scully ignored the question, stepped over to Mulder. She lowered her voice, though what Tom couldn't hear with his ears he heard with his mind. "Mulder, how do you know that?" she asked.

The confused look on Mulder's face returned. He shook his head. "I just know."

Scully turned to Tom, lifted her eyebrows, telling him silently to have out with it.

Tom nodded and swallowed nervously. He wasn't sure why, but this Dana Scully intimidated him. Nevertheless he wanted to explain who he was as quickly as possible so that he could get to the part that had just happened a few hours ago. "My name is Tom Davis. These children are part of the hybridization experiment that I was in charge of. Did you say that Joy is with you?"

"You're one of the Project leaders? Are you a Colonist?" Scully asked. Tom sensed she was trying to hold back her anger. He was pretty sure she was also trying to keep herself from shooting him as well. 

"Not a Colonist."

"Are you a Super Soldier then?" Scully asked, glancing at Mulder. He seemed disoriented. "Mulder, what's wrong with you?"

He shook his head like he was trying to get water out of his ears. He leaned over close to her ear. "I'm having an artifact moment," he whispered, sounding embarrassed, not stealthy. "I think I'm hearing his thoughts."

"If you're Fox Mulder, then I'm not surprised," Davis said.

"How do you know who he is?" Scully snapped.

"I know all of you. Except him," Tom said, waving in Rob's direction. "I told you, I was in charge of the hybridization project. Two days ago I took the children out of the lab where we had imprisoned them and started driving." 

"So, you're a kidnapping alien?" the man Tom did not recognize said, speaking for the first time. "I think you should stay away from my son." Ah… the adoptive father.

"Rob, its okay," Mulder said. At least someone was on his side. Tom glanced at Jeremiah Smith, who had been silent the entire time so far. Smith smiled at him. *I could use your help here,* Tom told Smith's mind.

*You're doing fine,* Smith thought in return. 

Tom sighed. "Okay. In a nutshell, I am what you would probably call an Alien Replicant. At the project we call ourselves Level B or Beta Hybrids. We're the second most advanced alien/human hybrid there is. Mulder here almost became one of us. I was a scientist. I've been developing an anti-toxin serum that would allow the Gray Colonists to inhabit the planet. You see, they are allergic to --"

"Yes, yes, we know about the iron allergy," Scully said, waving her hands. "What are you doing *here*?"

"The serum I created is based on antibodies found in their blood," he said, pointing towards the children. A few of them turned towards him and smiled. "They are Level A Hybrids. Alphas. The most advanced. Very special." The words he'd said days earlier to the children made his ears ring and he had to push back bile from rising in his throat. "I couldn't stand what we were doing to them any longer. I know I waited too long. So many have already died. I just never thought we'd make it. Turns out I was right."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

"I think I've put you all in danger. We were followed," he said. Tom told them about their escape, their trip west and about the helicopter. 

And about their chances.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Keet Seel

December 25, 2012

11:13 pm

What had started as a relatively pleasant day for Scully had turned into a decidedly bad one. She felt irritable and restless. It wasn't enough that she had learned God was an alien tyrant hell-bent on destroying her species, but the devil had just arrived on her doorstep looking for her son. What was worse, by all accounts the devil was a mild mannered, compassionate guy. It would be fair to say that her world had been turned upside down. 

She listened as Tom Davis explained his role in Colonization and his attempted escape. If she had hope for the future that morning, she now felt an utter sense of futility that she hadn't felt since the day she and Mulder had left Minnesota. 

"If more soldiers are on their way back here, we shouldn't stay much longer," Rob said, verbalizing what Scully was thinking.

"I thought the red rocks would protect us. The Super Soldiers are allergic," Gibson said, sounding oddly childlike. He hadn't sounded like a child even when he'd been one.

"They are," Tom said. "It doesn't matter. Now that they know where to find me and the children, they'll send Level B's. Even if they don't, it would seem my serum works on the Level C's anyway. They can go anywhere they want now. They want the children back and will kill us." Tom lowered his head. Scully thought she saw genuine regret in his face.

As she considered what he had said -- that soon they would have no place to hide -- a thought occurred to Scully. "Didn't you say that as the soldiers approached you and the children, they started to convulse?" Scully asked.

Tom nodded. "It looked like they were having an allergic reaction."

"Maybe the rocks will still protect us," Rob said hopefully.

"No, if it was the iron in the rocks, the Level C's couldn't have gotten as close as they did. They wouldn't have been able to set down."

"What if it was them," Scully asked pointing towards the children who were still clustered in their own group away from the adults. A few, including William, turned their heads. No doubt they were listening. "You said after you injected Joy with magnetite, her antibodies became useless. Toxic."

"Yes, but the soldiers never got any blood on them," Tom said.

"What if they don't need to? What if effectively the children had become like a super potent version of the red rocks? One too powerful even for your anti-toxin?"

Tom narrowed his eyes, considering her words, shook his head. "Interesting theory, but even if true, what happened still doesn't make sense. These kids were never injected with magnetite. Joy was the only one."

"They did it themselves," Mulder said, looking towards the children. "Before you took them from the lab. They injected themselves."

"That's impossible," Tom said standing up. He looked over towards the children. The boy nearest to William made eye contact with him, nodded. "No!" Tom shouted, pain in his voice. He quickly walked over to the children. Speaking to the boy, he said, "Chris, why would you do that?" Chris didn't answer. Tom put his hands on Chris's shoulders. He shook him and asked again. "Why?"

"Hey, take your hands off him, man," Mulder said, standing up, finally sounding like himself and not in a daze.

Tom obeyed and straightened, seeming on the verge of tears.

"I thought you wanted to destroy the Project. Won't this make the children obsolete? Isn't that a good thing?" Scully asked.

"Maybe ten years ago, but now *they* know what magnetite does. Now they won't ignore the children like they ignored your son. Now they'll want them all dead."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Keet Seel

December 26, 2012

6:03 am

It was still dark when their group, which had been multiplied by three, began the climb down the wooden ladder from Keet Seel to the canyon floor. Mulder helped Smith extinguish the campfire in silence. He knew Smith hadn't explained everything he'd set out to when he'd taken them to this ancient place, but after the news that Tom Davis had brought with him, everyone seemed to share a sense of urgency. Nobody knew what to do next except to rejoin the others at Canyon City, if only to tell them what had happened during the past twenty-four hours.

Mulder pushed ashes with his booted toe over the last of the dying embers. "You never told us about the Prophesy," Mulder said, not looking up.

No one had slept much during the night, but after Tom had told them about the Project and the intentions to kill the children, there hadn't been much conversation either. People either engaged in discussions within their minds, or sat in stunned silence. 

"No, I didn't," Smith said with a hint of finality. 

Mulder, never one to allow a subject to drop, asked with edge in his voice, "You changed your mind?" 

Smith pursed his lips. "No, I didn't. I'm just not sure I should tell you now," he said calmly, though Mulder thought he heard a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"Why?"

"I have a terrible feeling that something is about to happen."

Mulder laughed breathily. "Isn't that prediction a little late?"

Smith smiled from the corner of his mouth. "I wish." He turned, making one last check of the camp, but Mulder reached out and grabbed his elbow, holding him.

"Tell me about the Prophesy," Mulder pleaded with his eyes. "It's about William, isn't it?"

Smith nodded.

"You didn't really believe in it. But now you do," Mulder said. He had always had strong intuition, but ever since Aiden had told him he was still telepathic, Mulder had come to realize intuition wasn't all it was. He still couldn't hear thoughts like he had been able to when he and Scully had learned of the artifact. Instead it was somewhat like looking underwater; he was reasonably sure he knew what he was looking at, but the image was blurred, and danced around inside his mind like light bouncing off the water.

"I knew that the others believed the story, and I thought that made it important enough to share."

"Where did the Prophesy come from?"

"I think all who know are long dead. Depending on who tells the tale, the answer to that question and the Prophesy itself are twisted to suit their motives."

"Tell me," Mulder said firmly, but respectfully.

Smith pursed his lips together. "Thousands of years ago, my people made face to face contact with humans for the first significant time since they had discovered your ancestors. The Grays who came here wanted humans to know them as more than just lights in the sky. But man was afraid and came to hide in places such as this because he had learned the Grays could not survive here. This angered the Grays. More importantly, it embarrassed them -- at least a fraction of them. Understand that like on Earth, those with the most power do not always speak for the masses.

"There was an old prophesy, one that the humans had learned and changed into many various myths of their own, that claimed a human would bring in the Fifth Age. He would be mankind's savior."

"Quetzalcoatl," Mulder muttered.

"Yes, that is what the ancient humans in this part of the world called him. The Grays in power chose to pay attention to the part of the myth that called for an end to one age and the beginning of another. They twisted the myth to mean the end of mankind and the beginning of the rule of the Gray. They believed they had authority --"

"-- authority given by whom?"

Smith shrugged. "By whoever wrote the Prophesy, I suppose. For the ruling Grays, it was only a way to gain political support. They believed they had authority to destroy man and they decided to use the savior of man against the human race. But rather than wait for that savior to come, they set out to create their own savior. Twelve saviors. Someone should have told them, you can't genetically engineer the messiah. Anyway, that is one version. If you ask Aiden, he will tell you another."

"He believes William is Quetzalcoatl," Mulder said.

"He, and the others, wouldn't call him by that name. They would leave that to Liam's group, or the group led by Josepho, who kidnapped your son when he was a baby."

"But, Aiden believes William came to unite humanity and Gray as one race, and bring peace. That's why the Replicants rebelled against the Grays, isn't it?"

Smith nodded. "Aiden and the others believe William will unite two races created by God, and eliminate the artificial inequality between them. That he will show the races they are brothers and sisters, that neither is superior over the other."

"God? I thought your people *were* God."

Smith shrugged. "It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose."

Mulder took a deep breath. This was getting interesting. He had somewhere near a million more questions he wanted to ask.

"Mulder? What are you doing?" Scully shouted from below.

"Just a second," he shouted back absently, still looking at Smith. "If you believe William is here to bring peace, what needs to be done?" Mulder asked, swallowing hard, flashes of his recent dreams flitting through his brain.

"I don't know," Smith said, and Mulder knew he was telling the truth.

That truth terrified him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 26, 2012

10:27 am

William twisted the top off his water bottle and took a nice, long swig. Water drizzled down the corners of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. They'd been walking for a long time, and finally the parking lot was in sight, though it was still a thousand feet above where they were on the valley floor. Tom had told them Mulder and Dana's truck had been blown up along with their van and William could faintly smell burnt fuel and rubber tires.

For the first time all morning, William felt on edge. Since Tom and the other children -- the children from his dreams -- had arrived, even with the terrible news they'd brought with them, William had been at ease. Everything was driving towards a resolution, and though he still had no idea what he would be asked to do, William wanted that resolution to come. It would be better than waiting.

But now he only felt a sense of impending danger. Something very bad was about to happen.

"Hey!" someone called from behind him. William jumped nearly an inch, his heart rate spiked, and he dropped his water bottle in the dirt. 

"Whoa, son," his dad said, "it's just me. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," William said bending over to pick the bottle up.

"You sure? I don't remember ever seeing you startle. Certainly not like that." His dad paused, William could hear him debating about whether he should say what he wanted to say next. "Usually, you hear me coming from a mile away."

William looked up at his dad, wide-eyed. He understood that his dad used the word *hear* the way William used the word when he spoke of *hearing* thoughts. "I-- I didn't think you believed me. I thought you thought I was crazy."

His dad sighed, folded his arms. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way, Will. That's what I came over to talk to you about. I won't pretend I understand, but I do know you're a very special kid." He smiled awkwardly and squeezed William's shoulder. "And I'm sorry if I ever put you in the middle. Between me and them," he said, nodding his head back towards Mulder and Dana, who had stopped and were talking a few yards behind them.

William looked intently at his feet. "Just because -- just because they're my real parents, it doesn't mean --" he shifted his weight to the other foot.

"I know," his dad said, letting him off the hook. "And just because I'm the guy who taught you how to throw a baseball, it doesn't mean you can't have a catch with Mulder," he added, reciprocating the sentiment.

"I know," William echoed. 

Rob nodded. "Okay then," he said with finality, then shifting gears, "Are you doing okay? Do you need a rest? We're close, but it's still a tough hike up that hill."

William shook his head. "How about you? You're the old guy." He looked up at his dad and grinned. His dad laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to catch up with Mr. Smith, okay? I have something to ask him."

William nodded and his dad strode to the front of the group, leaving William to walk alone. But he wasn't alone for long. Chris' thoughts were inside his mind seconds later. *Something's wrong, isn't it?* Chris asked.

*Something's very wrong, but I can't figure out what. I feel like I should be able to. That I need to,* William answered silently.

What happened next seemed to occur both in a blur and as if time had stopped.

And it was very bad indeed.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 26, 2012

10: 28 am

"Hey, Scully!" Mulder called as he jogged up from behind her, catching up. He'd been hanging far back behind the group as they walked nearly in single file. A few conversations had broken out among the hikers, but for the most part, the walk was silent.

Scully still felt irritable. Against her better judgment, she trusted Tom Davis. She wondered why he had waited so long to make a move. why so many people had to die before he had done the right thing, but Scully believed he cared about the children, and cared about their fate. And she'd been thinking about what he'd told them.

For the past decade, Mulder and Scully had believed they needed to stay in hiding, believed their access had been taken away and that if they showed up in public they'd have to endure another rigged trial that would get them *both* the death penalty this time. But the reality was that nobody had cared about them. If they hadn't stayed underground, maybe they could have done so much more. She could have found William sooner, saved his mother, saved her own mother, her brothers. Maybe saved everyone.

Mulder had a grin plastered on his face. "Do you need me to carry your backpack for you?" he asked with fake chivalry. Scully rolled her eyes. They'd been hiking for more than four hours and they were nearly to the parking lot.

"Bite me, Mulder," she said, her heart not really in it.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked seriously as his grin faded. He stopped her forward progress gently, getting her attention.

"Why are we stopping? We're almost there."

He cupped her face with his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his caress, sighing. "I'm fine," she said.

He leaned over, moved his face close to hers. "Liar," he whispered tenderly, without malice. "Scully, it's not your fault," he added.

She opened her eyes. "What's not?" she asked, suddenly feeling like they were in the middle of a conversation and she had missed the beginning of it.

"Everything. Not saving Mrs. Van de Kamp or your family or the human race."

"I know," she said, glancing away from his eyes.

"Then why do you keep telling yourself that?"

She opened her mouth to protest, clamped it closed. Relenting, she asked, "How are you getting this, Mulder?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you really able to hear my thoughts again? Like before?"

Mulder shook his head. "It's not as clear as it was back then. I'm starting to think it never completely left me, though. I just assumed it had."

"Well, stay out of my head, Mulder," she said, forcing a bright tone.

"Scully, even if I could read your mind like Will can, you'd still keep me guessing." He took her hand in his own. She smiled closed-lipped, but warmly and Mulder returned the smile for a moment. Then his faded a little. "Scully, I also want you to know, us not being with William all these years is also not your fault."

She pulled her hand from his grasp and took half a step backwards. She lowered her gaze. 

"It's not," he said softly.

She swallowed and shook her head. "You must blame me, Mulder. How can you not?" She looked away from him, turned her head towards the vast expanse of the valley they followed, and put her hands on her hips. 

"Scully, there was a time when I blamed you," he said. She inhaled deeply. They had never really discussed this. Never in ten years. There had been many starts and stops. She had often just wanted him to shake her and yell at her and tell her how awful she had been for giving their son away without his approval, but it never happened. Instead the bitterness had festered inside both of them and slowly they'd grown apart while staying together. 

"But I don't anymore," he added. He touched her chin with his fingertip, drawing her attention back to his eyes. "I don't. I believe everything has happened for a reason. This was our destiny. And it was Will's."

"If what Jeremiah Smith told us is true, I don't believe in destiny anymore," she said. 

He smiled. "I'll believe for both of us. For now." 

 

She nodded, though she didn't feel any better. 

"So," he said, changing his tone, "I was thinking that we hadn't really considered how we would get back to Canyon City once we got to the lot. Tom said our truck and his van were both destroyed, and it was a fairly long drive out here."

"You're right," she said. She couldn't believe she hadn't considered that. "Maybe we can ask Will to try to contact Aiden."

Mulder grinned and eyed her suspiciously.

"What?" she asked mock defensively. 

"Scully, you read my mind," he said and bent down to give her a quick, but firm kiss on the lips.

He grabbed her hand, and began to pull her forward. "Come on, let's --"

A dozen or more short pops ricocheted off the canyon walls, followed by two or three seconds of silence. Then the gunfire began again.

"Get down!" Mulder yelled to the rest of the group. The children were screaming, Scully vaguely heard Gibson call to Tom to look out and though she tried, she could not see William. "The bastard's got a machine gun!"

Scully threw her backpack down on the ground, and reached back around to her hip where her weapon rested inside its holster. "Did you see where it came from?" she shouted. They were near the canyon wall, a few steps from the start of the long trail that lead up to the top of the mesa and the parking lot. The trail was littered with rocky outcroppings and desert brush, giving whoever was shooting at them ample space to hide.

Suddenly, the shooter stood up from behind a yucca plant and yelled, reminding Scully a little too much of Rambo, and began shooting again. Scully pointed her gun and ran towards the shooter, pulling the trigger as she moved. She could hear bullets flying by her ears, see tiny dirt explosions all around her as they struck the ground. She faintly registered a sudden burning pain in her left bicep, but adrenaline blinded her from understanding the cause. As she moved closer, the shooter's face came into sharp focus. She squeezed the trigger again, and this time she was sure she hit Liam. He yelped and the gun flew from his hands. He was high above them, standing on a boulder. He jumped off of it and ran away, out of view, holding his stomach with both hands. The trail was steep, but she started up to chase him.

"Dana, stop!" It was Gibson. She'd never heard that level of panic in his voice. She turned back. Most of the group had scattered, each person trying to find cover anywhere they could. She breathed heavily. As the fog of the fight faded, she again looked for William. "Dana, over here! He needs your help," Gibson said. 

Finally, she spotted Gibson. And she found William.

She ran over to them. Lying on the ground, bleeding heavily, completely immobile, was Rob. William knelt down next to him. He sobbed as he shook his father. Gibson stood next to them both, a few feet back.

"Oh my God," she said. She twisted around. "Mulder, bring me the backpack!" she called to him. Turning back to Gibson, speaking fast she asked, "Where's Jeremiah? He can save him." She knelt down next to Rob on his left side, opposite from William, ripped open Rob's shirt, searching for the source of the blood that was pooling around him.

"He's over there," Gibson said, sounding grave, pointing down towards a deep rocky ditch a few yards away. 

Scully turned her upper body around, following Gibson's finger. Jeremiah Smith was lying in the ditch, as still as Rob.

Suddenly, all Scully could feel was blinding pain.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Kayenta Valley

December 26, 2012

10:42 am

"Scully, you're bleeding," Mulder said. He quickly dropped down to his knees next to her with the medical backpack, nearly landing on top of it in the process. He wasn't sure she'd heard him. Her hands, covered with blood, pressed down hard onto Rob's ribs near his left pectoral muscle. Her head swiveled back and forth as her eyes darted between Gibson, who hovered near the unmoving body of Jeremiah Smith, and high up on the trail in the direction Liam had run off.

"William, sweetie," she said with controlled urgency while simultaneously trying to sound soothing. "Are you hurt? Did you get hit?"

William, who knelt on the other side of Rob from Scully and Mulder, hesitated, shook his head. His eyes were puffed-red and his cheeks were covered with salty trails of tears, and to Mulder he looked like he was in mild shock.

"Mulder, open the pack. There should be a package of bandages. The thick gauze sponges," she said quickly. 

"Got 'em," Mulder said, ripping open several paper wrappings at once and holding them out for Scully to take. "Scully, you've been shot," he said again, as if she didn't know. The left sleeve of her light fleece jacket had an expanding red stain on it.

She ignored him and pressed several gauze pads over the wound in Rob's chest while she continued speaking. "Gibson, is he dead?" She called, referring to Smith.

"I don't know," Gibson called back. "He's not moving." Mulder vaguely registered that several of the other children were forming a circle around Smith, though Mulder could barely see him in the shallow crevice where he'd fallen.

"Will, I need your help," Scully said, snapping Mulder's attention back. "Mulder, give Will some gauze. Will, I need you to hold this here, okay," she said. She removed her right hand from the wound on Rob's left side, took the clean gauze from Mulder and pressed it down on a similar wound on Rob's right side to demonstrate for William. She had yet to use her left arm for anything strenuous, making Mulder wonder just how serious her injury was. At first, Mulder didn't think William had heard her. He only stared at Rob, but after a few seconds he nodded and took over for her, holding the gauze over his father's chest. 

Scully pressed two fingers to Rob's neck. She pursed her lips together. "Damn it," she said, frustration coloring her face. Looking into his eyes, telling him more with a glance than with words, she said, "Mulder, we need Jeremiah." 

Mulder nodded, stood up. He glanced down to Rob. Blood was pooling around him in spite of Scully's efforts to stop the bleeding. Mulder guessed there were probably exit wounds on Rob's back and maybe another gunshot somewhere not visible from above. He also noted that he had not seen Rob take a breath.

Mulder jogged the few yards over to where Gibson and some of the children stood hovering over Smith. He had fallen into a ditch and was lying flat on jagged rocks. Mulder jumped down and knelt next to Smith. He leaned over, put his hands on either side of Smith's head and put his ear close to Smith's face. He listened. He felt a faint breath on his cheek, heard Smith's raspy exhale.

"He's alive!" Mulder shouted back to Scully.

"Is he conscious?" Scully asked. 

Mulder lightly slapped Smith's face. "Hey, wake up! Rise and shine." There was no response, so Mulder slapped harder. Still nothing. "No! He's not! I can't wake him!" Mulder finally answered. Mulder searched for wounds on Smith's body. He did not see massive amounts of blood or any trauma, aside from a moderate gash on the back of Smith's head. 

"Shit!" Mulder said to himself. 

"Hey, Mulder!" Mulder heard the voice calling from above, booming down to the canyon floor from the parking lot. Mulder looked up, squinting. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and though it was chilly, it was a beautiful day. He shielded his eyes from the sun. John Doggett stood at the edge of the cliff. A second later another figure joined him and Mulder guessed it was Aiden. 

"Get down here! Rob's been shot!" Mulder called. As he heard them scramble down the steep, gravel trail, Mulder turned back to Smith. "You have to wake up," he pleaded. 

Smith stayed still.

^^^^^^^^

John and Aiden barreled recklessly down the steep trail, yet even at their speed, it took them ten minutes to make the trip. Aiden stayed close behind John, hoping that if the man fell he'd have time to grab him or help break the fall. When they finally reached the bottom safely, Aiden tried to take in the scene before him. John ran directly to where Scully and William hovered over Rob, and Aiden followed. Aiden was aware of the others -- newcomers -- surrounding him. He was *surprised* by the others surrounding them.

And he was surprised that he was surprised.

When they'd left, Jeremiah had taken five people with him to Keet Seel. Now there were three times that many, most of whom were children. After John and Monica had told Aiden about the helicopter, he'd tried to contact Jeremiah, but had not had any luck. Knowing that Keet Seel was a half a day's journey from Canyon City, they'd decided to wait until morning to meet Jeremiah's group halfway to tell them what they'd seen and to make sure they were safe. During that entire time, Aiden had heard whispers of other voices, but none of the voices had been clear enough to decipher or even to discern between someone else in the camp or an outsider. Aiden finally understood why. It was obvious the newcomers were telepathic and not until the chaos of the recent events had they let their guard down enough to be heard clearly. These children were skilled at controlling their thoughts. These children had come from the laboratory like Joy, and the man with them was an Alien Replicant.

If Aiden hadn't known better, he would have assumed the man -- *Tom*, the man's voice supplied for Aiden in his mind -- had something to do with what had happened. But as John and he had drawn closer to the parking lot, Aiden had heard other whispers, and he identified them as Liam's. Liam had shot Rob, shot at all of them, and run off. What was more, Aiden knew that Liam was still close-by, and that it was up to him to find him. Aiden was the one who had let Liam go. He had been ready to run after Liam when he and John had been in the parking lot, but his immediate help was needed in the canyon below.

Stopping near Scully, Aiden realized something else. He could not hear Jeremiah.

"Dear God, what happened?" John asked, slightly out of breath from the hike down.

"Liam shot at us with a machine gun. Jeremiah's unconscious. Rob's hit," Scully said rapidly, trying to bring them up to speed. She took a breath, slowed herself down. "I can't save him. He's bleeding to death," she said, glancing at William with unshed tears in her eyes. She added, "but Jeremiah can save him. I know he has the power to heal."

Mulder jogged over to them from a nearby outcropping of rocks where Gibson and several of the children remained. "He's breathing, but he's not moving. He must have hit his head."

"How did Liam get a machine gun?" John asked.

"From the soldiers," Tom said, trailing a step behind Mulder. "This is all my fault."

"Who the hell are you?" John asked. "And all those kids?"

"We don't have time for that. You've got to wake Jeremiah up, Mulder," Scully pleaded. "How can he be hurt? I thought you all were indestructible." She directed the last comment at Aiden and Tom.

"He's not exactly like us. We were genetically engineered to be indestructible. He's much more… fragile," Tom said.

"Can one of you do what he can do? Do you have his ability to heal?" Mulder asked.

"No," Aiden said, shaking his head slowly, sadly. "Even among the Grays, his powers are exceptional. That's why he's managed to say alive as long as he has."

Aiden looked down at William. The boy pressed a bandage into his father's chest, but his eyes seemed vacant. Aiden couldn't even hear what was in his mind. William was numb.

"We've got to get him back to camp," Scully said, standing up. "I have more supplies there."

"The drive alone is an hour. He'll never make the trip up the trail, much less that," John said.

"We don't have a choice," she said. "Mulder, you and John grab Jeremiah. Ask Gibson to help. Tom and Aiden can help me with Rob," Scully said.

"That's all right," Aiden said, waving his hand towards Tom. "He and I can take them both. Alone."

Aiden bent over, scooped Rob up and threw him over his shoulder. The other's eyes widened momentarily at seeing him lift Rob up like he was a sack of flour, but Aiden understood that they had seen far more extraordinary things from those like him before. Tom, along with Mulder and John, walked over to collect Jeremiah and the children before they all set off together up the long, steep trail leading to the parking lot.

It took much longer to make the hike up the trail than it had to come down it. They walked in one long line, with Scully staying close to Aiden to check on Rob, and William trailing closely behind her. Aiden could feel Rob's blood drip down his neck and his back, mingling with his own sweat. 

When he'd hoisted Rob up onto his shoulder, Aiden had sensed that it was already too late. He was not a doctor, but he had been around enough death to know when it knocked. When they finally reached the top of the trail, Aiden set Rob down on the ground near one of the charred vehicles -- which one it had formerly been, he could not tell. 

William hadn't spoken since Aiden and John had arrived. He hovered near his father, but not too close. Scully bent down, placed two fingers on Rob's neck near his jaw, and Aiden's suspicions were confirmed. He could hear the turmoil in her mind, and the restrained tears in her eyes affirmed her thoughts. She knew Rob was gone, and that there was nothing she could do, but she struggled with how to tell William. Her son. Rob was William's adoptive father, and William loved him. It hurt Scully to have to hurt her son in this way.

Everyone was quiet, even thoughts were muted. It was Mulder who finally broke the silence. He touched Scully softly on the shoulder near her neck. "Scully," he said, her name more a breath than a word. She blinked her eyes slowly, her chin quivered slightly and she stood up, keeping her eyes trained downward. She took in a shaky breath, exhaled slowly and turned to William.

Before she could speak, William began shaking his head wildly. His lips formed silent words. He backed up slowly, twisted around on his heels and ran.

"William!" Scully shouted, starting after him.

"No, let me go," Aiden said, putting his hand out to stop her.

"No, I have to --. Liam is still out there," she said.

Aiden looked into her eyes. "I know. Dana, I'll get him," he said.

She slowly nodded, tears finally streamed down her cheeks. 

"Stay with him," Aiden added, pointing to Jeremiah, and he ran off to find William. And Liam.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Scully kicked the ground, looked up to the clear blue sky and walked away from the others. Her left arm hung limply against her side. Mulder knew she wanted to be alone, but he also knew it was not what she needed. Besides, she had been shot and whether she wanted it or not, the wound would need to be tended to.

"How are you with gunshot wounds?" Mulder asked Tom. He had said he was a scientist, but he'd been involved with genetic experiments, so maybe he had at least a basic background in medical triage. 

"It's been a while, but I can take a look," Tom said. "It all depends on whether she was grazed or if the bullet is still lodged in her arm. Or if it shattered the bone."

"I'll find out," Mulder said, starting off towards Scully. "We'll be back."

The gravel crunched as he approached her, and he was glad. He didn't want to startle her. "Scully? Why don't you let Tom check your arm out?" He touched her lightly on her right shoulder, stepping around to face her. She used the back of her hand on her good arm to wipe a trail of fresh tears from her cheeks, but more than anything she looked angry.

"It's fine, Mulder. It just grazed me," she said stubbornly.

"Let me see," he whispered, grasping the edges of her fleece jacket and pulling it off her.

"Mulder, just leave me alone." She sounded petulant, but she allowed him to help her take the jacket off. 

He gingerly pulled it off her injured arm and she grimaced. The jacket was covered in blood, both Scully's and Rob's and Mulder dropped it on the ground. She had a button-up shirt on as well, which Mulder also helped her remove. She stood in just a T-shirt, and Mulder could finally see the wound. "Oh, Scully," he said. It looked bad, much worse than she was letting on. He lightly touched her shoulder, above the injured area. She flinched like he had burned her. "Sorry," he said. He smoothed his hand over her face and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry."

Stepping back, he said, "Tom said he can fix this for you. Will you please let him?"

Her eyebrows knotted and Mulder wasn't sure if she was trying not to cry or if she was pissed. Both, he decided. She let out a breath, and nodded, relenting.

"Do you still believe this was destiny, Mulder?"

"No, this was just some lunatic with a gun," he said.

He wrapped an arm around her good side, careful not to touch her injured arm and led her back to the others. Mulder set her down on a small, but flat rock and looked around for the medical backpack for some gauze and antiseptic. The pack was near Rob. Mulder jogged over to get it. He looked at Rob a moment. "I'm sorry, man," he said. He didn't know what else to say, so he repeated "I'm sorry" and walked back to Scully.

Tom managed to clean and dress the wound. The bullet had more than grazed her. It had torn through the edge of her bicep pretty good, but it had not struck bone and had gone through cleanly. She would be in serious pain, especially without the benefit of medication. However, as long as she kept it infection free, she would heal in time. Though, she would no doubt suffer some loss of movement in her left arm, and keeping the wound clean would not be a given in their current environment.

After that business was taken care of, they all were silent as they waited for Aiden to return with William. Scully and Tom checked on Jeremiah, who had not yet stirred. The children huddled together, carrying on silent conversation with each other. John inspected the wreckage of the two bombed vehicles. He'd brought a short-wave radio with him and had called for Monica to come with another car. Aiden and John had driven one of the camp's SUVs but only half of them would be able to squeeze into that, not including Jeremiah, assuming he didn't regain consciousness. The drive back to camp would be more than an hour, so whoever was left behind would be at the parking lot alone for a little while. 

The perpetual question that gnawed at Mulder now was what should they do next? 

"I have an idea, but you're not going to like it," Tom said.

Mulder looked up. "Did I say that out loud?"

Tom shook his head, smirked.

Mulder nodded. "Oh," he said. "Right."

"An idea about what?" Scully asked, not really interested.

"About what to do next," Tom said. "That's what Mulder was thinking about."

Scully looked at him, and Mulder smiled sheepishly. 

"The only thing I am doing next is make sure my son comes back here safely. If Aiden doesn't come back in the next five minutes, I'm going out there to find him," Scully said. 

"What's your idea?" Mulder asked.

Tom hesitated, licked his lips. "In hindsight, I should have done this before I left the Project. It would have been so much easier, but I just didn't understand how much more powerful their blood would be with magnetite." He jerked his head towards the children. Mulder sensed Tom's guilt -- so much for freeing them from being lab rats. "I knew it was toxic, but I didn't know just how potent. I probably would have been caught sooner or later by the Project leaders, anyway. They never really trusted me."

"You should have done what?" John asked, walking from the wreckage.

"The final stages of Colonization call for my anti-toxin vaccine to be released to the Colonists en masse via the venting system in the fifty or so ships they're currently living aboard. We were going to use a molecular synthesizer so that we could release it simultaneously as a very fine mist. The Colonists would simply inhale it, almost as if it were a gas. They like ceremony, so they wanted it to happen for everyone at the same time. This was the easiest way to accomplish that. It was going to be a big hoopla," Tom said.

"'Molecular synthesizer' he says," Scully chuffed. "That kind of technology doesn't exist."

"Neither does a fusion-powered propulsion system capable of supporting intergalactic space travel," Tom countered. "Yet here the Gray's are -- have been for thousands of years." 

"So what would you propose to do?" Mulder asked.

"It might not matter now, anyway. I don't have the technology to make it happen, but if I could engineer a new serum -- one based on the children's new blood chemistry -- and release it into the mother ships' mass delivery systems, we could essentially kill them all at once."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard," John said. "You're in the middle of the desert. How would you get it on board one ship, much less fifty ships?"

"Getting on board the ship will be the easy part. And we don't have to get on board all of the ships, just one. I'd have to transfer the protocols to all of the molecular synthesizers and release it simultaneously. The hard part is creating the vaccine in the first place. That kind of thing takes years of research in a state of the art laboratory. We are lucky if we have days and we're out here in the middle of nowhere."

"What if we could make the serum by tomorrow?" Mulder asked.

Tom lifted his eyebrows, smiled. "That would be great, but I just don't think it's possible."

"You said you needed to create a serum based on the children's new blood chemistry," Mulder said.

"Yes, that's right."

"Scully's already done that for you," Mulder said.

"Excuse me?"

"Mulder, what are you talking about?" Scully asked.

Mulder threw her a look. She knew exactly what he was talking about. It had been her life for the past ten years, but she was going to make it difficult for him. "The *stuff* Scully. You based it off of the magnetite composite Jeffery injected into Will and off of Will's blood chemistry from just after the injection," he said. He turned to Tom. "Would Will's blood make-up work?"

Tom stood up, ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah, in fact it would be ideal. Better than theirs combined," he said gesturing towards the children who didn't seem to take offense.

"How's that?" John asked.

"Because William wasn't genetically engineered like they were. His blood chemistry is the most perfect combination of alien and human DNA. Do you actually have a prototype serum or is it just research?"

"No, forget it. It's just a vaccine for the Plague. A vaccine that came too little too late," Scully said standing up despite the pain in her arm. She gasped and Mulder saw her bite her lip as she struggled to hold back a cry.

"Does it work?" Tom asked, clearly intrigued regardless of Scully's attempt to minimize her serum.

"Yeah, it works. Kept us from getting the Plague, and it brought Rob back from the dead," Mulder said, grimacing as soon as the words left his lips. Poor choice. 

"Well, neither of you two could have become infected with the Plague anyway, but that it worked on Rob… that's perfect!" Tom said. He sounded like he'd just passed through the gates to the Emerald City. "It probably just needs a little strengthening. We can do that easily using a sample of William's blood."

"No!" Scully said. "No, forget it. I am not letting you or anyone else put my son through anything more. This is it. It ends here!" 

"Scully --" Mulder started. 

"No, Mulder. Damn it! He just watched his father bleed to death. I will not ever let anyone hurt him like that again. It certainly won't be me."

"It's the only chance we have," Tom said.

Scully simply shook her head, glared at them both and stalked off.

She was angry, but Mulder knew the easy part would be convincing her to beef up the Mesabi Ferrum serum. Mulder could hear the thoughts inside Tom's head. William's involvement would need to be much more than just donating a sample of his blood if this plan was going to succeed.

Mulder understood that this was their last chance, but he wasn't sure he could allow his son's involvement either. If made, the decision not to would doom them all.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It didn't take Aiden long to find William.

The boy sat on top of a large, round boulder that hovered near the edge of a mile deep cliff. On each side of the boulder, rocks jutted recklessly upwards, stretching along the edge, full of many jagged nooks and outcroppings. William resembled the boulder he sat upon. His knees were tucked into his chest and his arms encircled his legs, his head was down.

"Go away," William said, not looking up, his voice muffled.

Aiden moved closer. "It's not safe out here alone," he said, but William picked up on the half-truth Aiden told him. William raised his head so that only his eyes were visible, lifted an eyebrow.

Aiden smirked. "He can still hurt you. It will just be more difficult for him."

"Let him try. I don't care," William said. "Besides, he thinks I'm 'the Chosen One' anyway." His voice was full of sarcasm, but it hitched a bit as he fought back tears. 

Aiden moved another step closer. He felt that Liam was close-by. He wasn't afraid of Liam, but he was afraid of what he might do to Liam. If he had to, Aiden would kill Liam, but he hoped he would only become violent in self-defense. Allowing anger into one's heart was the top of a slippery slope leading down to a pit of self-destruction, even if the anger was justified. 

"Why did he do it?" William choked out, not really expecting an answer that would satisfy him.

Aiden shook his head, looked down, trying to think of something profound to say.

"Because you have a greater destiny than what those people would allow for you," a wavering voice rasped out from behind William. One shaking, bloody hand grasped around a sharp rocky outcropping, pulling Liam out into full view only a few feet from William near the edge of the cliff. In spite of the fact that William had moments ago claimed he didn't care if Liam hurt him, William jumped up at the sound of the man's voice. Aiden rushed over to both of them, jumping up on the rocks in front of William. 

Liam was in bad shape. His free hand clutched his stomach and all of his clothing from the chest down was soaked in blood. Scully had definitely hit him. Liam steadied himself, and moved the hand that clutched the rock, holding it out to William.

"Come with me and you will be a king," Liam said, taking a step towards William, but sounding less confident than Aiden had ever heard him sound. Aiden sensed the conflict within Liam. He felt unsure of his actions, yet he also felt compelled to follow through with them.

"Stay back!" Aiden shouted. 

As if the force of Aiden's words alone could knock him back, Liam stumbled. He wobbled a moment on the rock he stood upon, lost his fight with balance and tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Aiden hurried over to the edge to peer down, William was right behind him. Miraculously, Liam had not fallen into the canyon below. He clung to a branch from a small Joshua tree that had grown in the side of the rock wall. The tattoo on his hand was clearly visible. 

Aiden knelt down, then laid flat on his chest and reached out his hand. "Take it," he grunted. 

"What are you doing? Just let him fall," William said, sounding like a little boy.

"Take my hand, Liam," Aiden said again. 

Liam creased his brow, shook his head, but Aiden didn't think it was truly in response to his offer of salvation. "I only wanted to make God proud of me. It's all I wanted. Never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted it to come to this," Liam rambled. Tears streamed down his face, and he made no effort to take Aiden's offered help.

"Come on! I'll pull you up," Aiden said.

Liam shook his head, this time making eye contact with Aiden. He looked down to the canyon below, looked back up to William. "I'm sorry," he said. Then he let go of the branch, his body spilled backwards as gravity took over. Aiden watched as Liam's arms and legs sprawled out, a slight smile spread on Liam's lips. Finally, he was gone.

Aiden exhaled, shook his head slowly, pushed himself up off the ground. He brushed the red dirt off of his jeans and his jacket simply to have something for his hands to do. 

"Why did you try to save him?" William asked. 

Aiden stopped his hands, looked William in the eyes. "Because if I hadn't, I would be just like him."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

William was more comfortable than he had ever been before. The edge of sleep was slipping away from him. He felt wakefulness tug at him and he mentally swatted it away. "Just five more minutes," he mumbled. His comforter was wrapped around his body like a cocoon. Only his head poked out into the cool, clean air of his bedroom. Outside he heard the soft patter of raindrops on the shutters, and though he fought it, his eyes fluttered open.

His room was still dark. *Not morning yet,* he thought. Good. His plan was to stay in this place forever. It was warm and safe, and he could find no reasonable reason to move. So, his eyes closed again, and he savored the state of being between dreams and consciousness. 

"Time to get up, Will," a familiar voice said.

William was not ready to listen.

"Time to wake up, son," the voice said again more insistently.

His eyelids struggled against it, but William finally opened his eyes. He tugged the blanket down a fraction, still keeping most of his face hidden. He looked towards the open doorway to his bedroom. Soft light from the hallway spilled in gently, and standing underneath the doorframe in the shadow was his father.

"Rise and shine, my boy," his father said.

Suddenly, William remembered something -- something terrible. His father was dead.

"This can't be real," William whispered. "You're a ghost."

His father laughed, the kind of soothing chuckle he always made when William was afraid and needed him to slay his imaginary monsters. "I'm certainly not a ghost. Your mother on the other hand…"

"But I watched you die," William stuttered, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I know," his father said, sadness creeping in to his voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that. No boy should have to see what you've seen in the last few days."

"Are you going to leave?" William asked, barely able to hear himself.

"I have to, son. You'll wake up soon, and life will go on."

"I don't want to wake up. I want to stay here."

"Everyone wants to be comfortable, not take risks. You have other things to do, Will. I'm sorry that's your burden."

William sat up a little further, shook his head. This did not sound like his father, yet it was. "I thought you wanted me to run away. I thought you didn't believe."

"I've recently been enlightened. You were meant for great things, Will. So much more than this room," his father said, waving his hands over the small space William had called his own until a few days earlier.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that? Maybe I don't *want* to be great. I just want to stay here -- with you."

"I can't stay, Will. And neither can you."

"I don't know what to do. I can't do it without you. I can't do this alone," William said, sinking back under the covers, feeling tears burn his eyes. He sniffed and fought them back.

"You'll know. You won't be alone," his father said, turning away. He took a step into the hallway.

"No, don't go, Dad!" William cried.

His father put his hand on the doorframe, stopping. He turned back and smiled. "You were meant to come to me, too, Will… all those years ago. Your mother and I love you." His father lifted his hand and quickly walked out of William's bedroom, out of William's sight.

"Dad? Come back, dad!" William called. The light from the hallway extinguished. William jumped up out of his bed, ran to his doorway. He took one step over the threshold and realized the hallway floor was gone. He stuck his arms out to his sides, braced his hands against the frame, stopping his momentum from falling into what had suddenly become a black abyss in every direction. A faint blue light the size of a pinpoint was growing in the distance until finally it was all around him.

"You'll know what to do," another voice called to William from within the light, echoing his father's words. He recognized this voice as well. It was Jeremiah Smith's voice. "I'll help you. We'll help each other. And you have them." A flash of Dana and Mulder standing next to Tom blinked in front William haloed in ghostly white. As suddenly as it had turned on, the blue light and the others were snuffed out and William was alone. 

He blinked. He was no longer in his bedroom. 

Bright blue sky, towering red rocks, the faint smell of bacon assaulted him. He was back in Canyon City and time had moved forward again.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 26, 2012

4:21 pm

"How is he doing?" Scully asked, standing up suddenly from her spot on a wooden bench near the campfire. She winced as she moved. Her injured left arm was tied in a makeshift sling, which helped to immobilize it, but Mulder could tell she was suffering more than she let on.

"He's fine. He's still sleeping," Mulder said walking towards the circle where Scully and the other adults were sitting. "Sit down, Scully." He tried to sound stern. He'd used that same tone when he'd convinced her to quit hovering over William and come over to where the others were. It had seemed to work, though Mulder pretended he didn't know she'd just been humoring him, or was too exhausted to argue. 

This time she wrinkled her forehead, frowned at him, but surprisingly obeyed once again. He would have to remember to use this tone of voice at another time when she was not in physical pain and they were alone. But then again, she would probably just laugh at him, and that was not the result he had in mind.

Mulder sat down across from Scully and the group was quiet once again. To say that melancholy had settled over them would be a gross understatement. After Aiden had returned to the parking lot with William and told them what had happened with Liam, the adults had debated briefly about what would be the best course of action. John suggested burying Rob at the lot. It was a long drive back to the camp, and space was limited. In the end, Scully decided it would be better to lay Rob to rest closer to what had become home. At the parking lot he would be alone. He deserved more respect than that, and so did William.

Back at the camp, several hours later, they still hadn't buried Rob. Jeremiah Smith was still unconscious, but Scully held out hope he would come around soon. She had told Mulder it had been hours after he'd been dumped in a field before Jeremiah had attempted to bring him back from the dead. Mulder had decided not to remind her that he hadn't technically been dead, just in deep stasis while his body transformed into what Aiden and Tom now were. Scully had blamed herself for not finding him sooner, and then for allowing him to be buried. 

And she blamed herself for not saving Rob, too. 

"Dana, can I get you anything?" Monica asked, as she stood up, perhaps attempting to cut through the silent tension. "I'm going to get some water, maybe a sandwich?"

Scully attempted a smile, but it resembled a wince. She shook her head. "No thanks."

"Scully, you really should eat something," Mulder said.

"Mulder, would you just stop!" she snapped. 

"Fine," Mulder said, throwing up his hands, equally frustrated. 

"Well, if you change your mind, just yell," Monica said.

Scully sighed. "I'm sorry, Monica," was all she said.

"It's okay. I'll be over there if you need me. I want to make sure Joy's had something to eat," she said walking away.

"I'll help," John said, standing quickly and scampering away, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. 

Scully, Aiden, Tom, Gibson and Mulder all settled back into their quiet stares. Tom hadn't brought up the subject of his plan since the second time Scully had shot him down just after they'd made it back to camp, but Mulder knew he was chomping at the bit. They all were running out of time.

"So, Tom… what's new in the world of alien-human hybrid genetics?" Mulder asked, with fake flippancy. 

"Mulder -- " Scully warned.

"What? I'm interested to know exactly how a new serum would work -- hypothetically, Scully. It'll give us something to talk about." Mulder hoped his new strategy of speaking science would pique Scully's curiosity. He knew she was not allowing her normally rational mind to play along. Maybe this would force it. "How is it that the Grays are allergic to iron in the first place?" 

Tom glanced at Scully, reminding Mulder of a dog who'd just piddled on the floor. "Well… even in humans, high levels of iron are toxic, but out of sheer necessity, humans have developed a tolerance, even a need for it. All life on earth has. The world the Grays come from isn't comprised of iron like earth."

"That would be unusual, wouldn't it?" Gibson asked. "Aren't most planets made of iron?"

"Most with conditions suitable for life are," Scully mumbled. Mulder smiled inwardly. She wanted to join in, but she didn't *want* to want to join in. 

"True, but I guess there is a lot we humans still don't know about the universe. What's amazing is that we got as far as we did. We came from them, so it's a wonder that our genetic ancestors survived long enough to spawn a mutation for iron tolerance," Tom said.

"Maybe it was divine intervention," Aiden said. If Mulder had made the comment, it would come out covered in sarcasm, but Aiden was serious. 

"Maybe," Tom said, smiling. He sounded like he was joking but Mulder could hear a kernel of belief in Tom's mind. "Anyway, the antitoxin vaccine I created works similar to a tetanus booster shot. To the Grays, iron is a toxin and the antitoxin vaccine works to stimulate an immune system response to destroy the invading entity. Because the children's antibodies have alien and human DNA, it was the perfect source to use as a base. But your serum," he said looking at Scully, "in theory, would work just the opposite. The aliens have no antioxidants in their body. They have no way to eliminate free radicals. By flooding their systems with high concentrations of iron, it might as well be like setting them on fire from the inside. I hypothesize that the effects would be immediate after introduction into the body, provided the concentrations are high enough." 

"That's if it works at all," Scully said.

"True, ideally we'd test it on a live specimen first," Tom said. 

"First you have to make it," Mulder said pointedly.

Scully looked down at her good hand, which was playing with a worn thread on her jeans. She bit her bottom lip. "Would a dead specimen work?" Scully asked. Mulder suppressed a smirk, not wanting her to close back down.

Tom looked at her, surprised. 

"When William walked near the dead Super Soldier at the Van de Kamp's house, the body convulsed. The same thing happened when I put the sample of his blood near Liam's friend after he died," she said. 

She meant, *after William killed Liam's friend*, Mulder thought. 

"A live specimen would be ideal, but a dead one might work," Tom said. "Doesn't matter. I don't have a dead Gray either. Do you?" He raised an eyebrow, not really expecting an answer. 

"What about the soldiers at the parking lot?" Gibson asked. 

Tom shook his head. "Hybrids. If we really want an accurate test, it should be on a Gray."

Scully opened her mouth to speak, closed it, changing her mind. She pursed her lips, shook her head and tried again. "I know where we can find one," she finally said reluctantly.

"Where?" Tom asked, perking up. Mulder wondered if his eyes would actually pop out of his head. 

"Monica told me that when they drove out here, they were chased by a Gray fighter ship and it crashed."

"And burst into flames. I saw the body. It was charcoal," Gibson said. 

"That might still be okay. As long as something is still there," Tom said. "At least for testing purposes."

"Does this mean you'll let Tom take a look at the stuff, Scully?" Mulder asked, feeling bold.

She sighed. "All right, but you'll have to work with the sample of Will's blood that I already have. I want him left alone."

"Okay," Tom agreed, lowering his lashes. Mulder didn't have to be telepathic to know Tom mentally added "for now."

"I'd like to get started as soon as possible," Tom said, standing up. 

Scully followed suit. "The serum is in the refrigerator in the cave. So are my microscope and notes," she said. Scully walked in the direction of the cave's entrance, turned back when Tom didn't follow. "You coming, or not?"

"I'll be there in a minute. Nature calls," he said.

Scully's face remained emotionless. "I didn't think there was anything natural left about you," she said under her breath as she turned and walked away.

Tom laughed awkwardly. Mulder found this man to be a walking contradiction. He was indestructible, yet was afraid of heights and was obviously intimidated by Scully. He wasn’t the first man to be intimidated by her, but he was the first who could use his own body as a bullet proof vest. In spite of Tom's jittery disposition, he had displayed extreme courage by liberating the children from the laboratory. Mulder wondered what he had been like before he'd become an alien.

"Me too," Tom answered.

"You don't remember… before?" Mulder was becoming accustomed to finishing conversations verbally that had begun telepathically, even when he hadn't meant to start a conversation.

"I remember it like you remember a dream. There are holes, fuzzy images, events that make little sense outside the dream, yet more than anything I want to go back there," he said, his right cheek twitching in a half smile. "Mulder, I need to talk to you."

Mulder straightened. He had an idea what Tom wanted to talk to him about, but didn't know what the details were. "Okay," he said simply.

"If this works… if we can engineer a new serum, I'm going to need help getting it on board a ship."

"Just tell me what you need me to do," Mulder said.

Tom shook his head. "I can't take you along. There's only one person who can pull this off. We'll need to sneak on board, so it'll have to be someone who's telepathic."

Mulder raised his eyebrows and waved his hands.

"Yes, you are," Tom said, "but your skills are very rusty. No offense. And if we were discovered, I might be able to talk my way out of it, but not with you there."

"Aiden then?" Mulder asked.

"Aiden, or the other Replicants would be able to get by the sentinels on the ship, but not accomplish the final task. Even I can't do it."

"It's been a very long day, Tom and I'm not quite up to form, so could you just cut to the chase?"

Tom paused, took a quick breath. "I need to take William."

Mulder knew that's what he was getting at, so he didn't even fake a *shocked* face. "Why?"

"He's the only one who is telepathic and telekinetic," Tom said.

"Telekinetic? As in, can move objects with his mind?" Mulder shook his head. "That was when he was a baby. The magnetite injection he got took that ability away from him."

"No, the infusion of magnetite only muted his ability for a while. You can't take something like that away. If you're not convinced, just ask him."

"Okay, say it's true. Why William? The other children are telepathic, and according to her mother Joy could move objects with her mind when she was a baby as well."

"Joy and the other kids are gifted, no doubt about it, but they're not even close to William. For this to work, it has to be him."

Mulder had known something like this was coming. He thought he was prepared, but Tom was telling him that William would need to board an alien ship and deliver a poisoned apple. Mulder shifted his feet, put his hands on his hips, looked at the dirt ground. "I can't," he said.

"Mulder --" Tom put his hand on Mulder's forearm. "You know this is the only chance we have. We'll be hunted down and either killed or turned into laboratory slaves. That's not the life you want for him."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, nodded as he opened them. "Okay, but I'm coming with you."

"Mulder, you'll never get on board. You'll sabotage the whole thing. Put us all in danger."

"He's not going without me," Mulder said more finally.

"He's not going where?" Scully asked, startling both men. "Some telepaths you two are," she said without humor. Her good hand was on her hip, her brow was knotted. "I was wondering what was taking you so long. Call of nature?"

Mulder had hoped he'd have at least a few hours to figure out how to convince her, plead with her, to let him take William on a suicide mission, but no such luck.   
"What were you talking about? Take who where?" she asked, though she obviously knew exactly who they were talking about. "Don't bother lying, Mulder." Her eyes fired lasers into his.

Mulder swallowed hard, but straightened his back. "I told Tom that if it's okay with Will, that he and I will go with him to deliver the serum to the alien ship."

"Have you lost your mind? You just made this decision now, without even talking to me?" Her voice had escalated into shouting. She looked at Tom. "I said you could study my serum, but not involve Will. There is absolutely no way you're touching him, much less taking him to *them!*"

"Scully, it's the only chance we have, and I'll be with him the whole time. He won't be alone. I'll keep him safe," Mulder said.

"Absolutely not!"

"I'm going," William said from behind all of them. The three adults whirled around. He had salty streaks of dried tears on his cheeks and despite his nap he looked exhausted, but also determined.

"Will, I don't think you know what they're asking of you," she said, softer. "I don't even understand."

"They didn't ask. I just know *he*…" William nodded towards Tom, "…has a plan and I have to go." He was angry.

"I can't let you go, Will. I can't," Scully said, her voice catching in her throat.

"I am going, Dana. You can't stop me," he said and he walked off.

Scully looked like she'd been shot all over again. Worse. William hadn't said it, but Mulder could almost see the translator in Scully's head at work changing Will's words to "you're not my mother and you can't tell me what to do."

"Scully, it'll be okay," Mulder said, stepping close to her, not even believing his own words.

She looked at Tom. "The serum is ready. It's inside on the table near the refrigerator. Better hurry before it goes bad," she said, calm fury coating her voice. She turned, stalked away towards the cave.

"Scully --" Mulder called.

"Leave me alone, Mulder," she said without turning back. 

Tom hesitated, looked to Mulder for approval.

"You better go," Mulder said, so Tom followed Scully to the cave and their chance at salvation.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 26, 2012

7:16 pm

Scully had commandeered a corner in the cave to use as a makeshift lab. A microscope sat on top of a couple of wooden crates, which were piled on top of each other. There was a halogen lamp powered by the generator and her notes were stacked neatly on top of the small refrigerator she had told Tom her samples were stored inside of.

She sat quietly in a chair, watching as Tom familiarized himself with her work. He felt her cold stare and it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Occasionally, he would ask her a question for clarity. She would answer tersely, but completely. He wished he could tell her something that would alleviate her fears, but truthfully, she should be afraid. He believed the goals of his plan were achievable, but the chances of success were small. He was more concerned now with Mulder's insistence on coming along. For a non-Hybrid, Mulder was gifted, but he'd never had the chance to develop that gift. Any loss of concentration could mean their deaths. William had not been in an environment for his abilities to fully develop, either, but Tom knew already that William was a fast learner. He had done amazingly well on his own without any guidance, or peer support.

"You've done great work here," Tom said. His need to break the silence was like an itch, so he scratched. 

Scully blew a quick breath through her nose, chuffing.

"You have," he said more emphatically, taking his eyes off the pages of notes he was reading and braving a look at her. "Especially considering the circumstances you've been under. If the project leaders had been smarter, they would have recruited you to be involved as a scientist rather than as a subject." What the hell was that? *Real smooth, Tom* he thought. Nervously and slightly deflated he added, "Though, I don't suppose you would have cooperated, would you?"

"No," she said curtly with a sardonic smile, though Tom sensed she wanted to say more. 

"You can ask me anything, or tell me anything. I'll tell you the truth," he said hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. For the first time in what seemed like his lifetime, Tom did not have the burden of shame pushing down on him. No matter how it all ended, he was free. Though, he hoped the ending would be far into the future.

Scully looked away and pursed her lips together.

"I will," Tom repeated.

She clicked her tongue. "Okay," she said, turning her head back to look at him. "Why did you wait until the deaths of billions of people before you took any action against *them*? There's a question."

Tom lowered his head. "Weakness. Cowardice. I wish I had a better answer, but I don't. I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."

"Here's another one," she said, leaning towards him as much as her injury would allow. "Why do you believe you need to take William on this insane mission of yours?"

"As I explained to Mulder --"

"I want you to explain to me," she interrupted, speaking evenly with controlled rage.

"William is the only one who has the necessary telepathic and telekinetic skills." When he'd said the word "telekinetic" Tom picked up on a vivid image in Scully's mind of William kicking a rock over a cliff. Her eyes had also widened. "You know what I'm talking about. You've seen him move objects… recently."

She bit her lowered lip, nodded. "You're telepathic. Why can't you go alone? Without him?"

Tom put the notebook he was holding down, moved to the edge of his chair leaning closer to her and spoke softly. "Dr. Scully, I am not telekinetic. Your son is the most unique individual on the planet, maybe the universe. He's the *only* one who can do this."

Tom saw tears building in her eyes, but he knew she would not let them fall. Not here in front of him.

She drew in a breath, exhaled shakily. "Why?" she asked, almost a whisper, far from the bravado she had only a moment earlier. At first Tom did not understand her question, then he realized she was asking why and how William was who he was. It was a deep and textured question with an equally rich answer.

"You're wondering if he was part of the project like Joy and the other children," he said.

Scully looked down at her hand resting on her knee. "You seem to know everything about us, so you must know about my --" she hesitated, "-- my medical history. I met women, like Joy's mother Patti, who had an almost identical story to mine. You said I was a test subject."

"You were a part of the Project," he said and Scully sucked in a breath. "But…" he added quickly, "… but you were a failure."

She shook her head. "Can you expand on that, please?"

"Your abduction is what initially involved you in the Project. It's what got you on the list, so to speak. Years later when you decided to try in vitro fertilization, the project leaders went wild. They'd wanted you for a long time, even though the previous experiments with your DNA failed, but considering your profile and Mulder's, they could never figure out how to involve you without setting off too many bells and whistles. Then you went to them. It was like Christmas for them. Unfortunately, for the Project at the time, all of your IVF attempts failed."

"All?"

"Yes, there were no secret attempts," he said. He heard her release the breath she'd been holding. 

"But how -- I mean, I tried not to question… It would have driven me crazy, but I never did understand how --" she stumbled over her words. She was discussing something deeply personal, something that made her visibly uncomfortable, and Tom was a stranger that she did not fully trust. 

"--how you were able to conceive?"

"Yes," she answered, looking down. Even in the dim light of the cave Tom could see her cheeks redden. 

"It wasn't long before William came when you and Mulder had contact with a piece of an alien ship. That was the catalyst for Mulder's telepathy becoming known to him. It nearly killed him, but you also witnessed its power to heal…" he was languidly nodding absently and she was unconsciously nodding with him. "You saw more than just a piece. You saw the entire ship. Touched it. Witnessed its power. It healed you, too." 

Scully touched a finger to the corner of an eye to stop a wayward tear from falling, though she looked happy, or relieved.

"You've suspected all along, haven't you?" he asked.

"Yes, but I was afraid to believe," she said.

"Maybe now you can rest a little easier. William was not engineered. Not by some man -- or alien -- in a lab. Though, the experiences of his parents long before his conception did help to make him who he is."

"I wish I still had a piece of that ship. I could bring Rob back with it," she said, straightening, trying to regain her composure. 

"Maybe, but it was not merely the ship that had the power to heal. I told you that Jeremiah Smith's abilities were exceptional. They're more than that. Much more. That's what the aliens fear the most, yet what they hope to harness."

"I don't understand."

"Me either," Tom said, laughing softly. "I only know that I've never met or heard of another Gray who can heal like he can, or like that ship you saw. That kind of power is divine, don't you think?"

"Do you think he's God?" Scully asked skeptically, wondering if he was crazier than she had thought before.

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't," he said. Scully relaxed a little, smiled self-consciously.

"--but, I do believe he has a direct line, whether he knows it or not," he added. 

Scully's smile faded a little. "You're serious?"

Tom raised his brow, nodding. "I also don't think he fully understands this connection himself." Tom laughed nervously, looked down at his hands. "I've never admitted I felt that way to anyone before. Even before I was changed, I placed my faith in what I could prove or disprove with science."

"How do you know all of this?" Her former anger had been replaced by a mixture of uncertainty and wonder.

"That last bit… it's just an educated guess," he said, smiling.

Scully cleared her throat, nodded towards her notes. "And what about this?" Your plan? Another guess?"

He shook his head. "Much more than a hunch, but still a gamble." 

"I have no intention of gambling with my son," she said firmly. Tom lowered his head, knowing he'd said the wrong thing again. "So, we better get this right," she added, picking up a vial of Mesabi Ferrum.

Tom looked up. She did not make eye contact with him, and Tom still could hear the fear and frustration in her mind over letting William go, but he admired her determination.

He only hoped he would not disappoint her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 26, 2012

7:33 pm

Aiden found William kneeling near his father's covered body. He had not spoken to Aiden since the events at the parking lot. Aiden didn’t want to push him, but he had felt that Liam's death demanded more discussion. William was angry at losing his father, an understandable emotion so recently after the loss, but one that left untended could grow into self-destruction, or worse. 

William's shoulders tensed as he sensed rather than heard Aiden approaching. Aiden kneeled next to William, mimicking his posture. Neither spoke. Aiden could not gather any clues about what William was thinking from his mind. This boy was certainly gifted and had already learned how to keep his thoughts private from others.

Finally, William said, "I want to bury him." Aiden was surprised he'd say such a thing to him. He thought he'd be the last person William would discuss his father's death with and had been preparing to persuade William to do so. Aiden had been expecting some yelling or crying, and he wasn't sure what to make of what William had said.

"Dana still thinks there's a chance if Jeremiah wakes up --"

"No," William said sharply, turning his head towards Aiden. Then he lowered his head, softened his voice. "He's gone. I saw him. I can see things, you know."

"I do know, Will," Aiden said, smirking. It felt odd to speak so informally to this boy he had revered for so long.

"I'm just a kid," William said, picking up on Aiden's line of thought. "But, I guess sometimes it takes a kid to save the world. What's left of it."

"I guess so," Aiden said, not sure what else he should say. He'd never been particularly good at these sorts of personal discussions.

"Why am I like this?" William asked.

"Like what?"

"Like you. How did I get this way if my real mom and dad are normal?"

"You aren't like me, Will, but you are normal. Just incredibly gifted, too," Aiden said.

"Cursed is more like it."

"We all have a destiny. Some of us have a bigger burden to bear than others," Aiden said, looking briefly at the dirt in front of his knees. William had turned his head to look at him, his eyes a touch wider. Aiden was able to catch a glimpse into William's mind and knew he'd said something that had special meaning. 

"What's yours?"

"What's my burden?" Aiden sat back on his feet, considered. "When I first became like this, I allowed myself to be used as a tool. I hurt many people and I have to live with that forever. It haunts me."

"Why did you do it?" William asked, using his finger to draw random lines in the dirt in front of him, not looking at Aiden.

"I believed I was doing the right thing."

"But it wasn't right… How do you know when the right thing is wrong?" William asked. He had a sense of vulnerability in his voice that Aiden hadn't heard in him since they'd met. 

"If I had really looked inside myself, I would have known it was wrong all along," Aiden said. He turned his head and looked at William. Feeling him stare, William turned to look back. "And so will you."

William tensed his jaw, inhaled deeply, nodded to himself. Aiden had come over to talk to William about Liam, and though he wasn't having much luck peeking inside of William's mind, he felt that William understood what he had tried to tell him. Aiden only hoped William would take it to heart.

Okay," William said, as if answering a question Aiden hadn't asked. "Will you help me?" He stood up, dusted the dirt from his jeans. Aiden wasn't sure what William was talking about. He realized his skills at reading body language and vocalizations had waned ever since he had become adept at reading people's minds. 

Being the prodigy that he was, William picked up on Aiden's lack of understanding and added, "I think its time for him to rest."

In silence, Aiden helped William bury his father, and say goodbye. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 26, 2012

Late

Scully still had dried blood underneath her fingernails, in the creases of her hands, and she wanted it off. It was late. Most of the camp had gone to bed. Tom had told her to get some rest, that he would stay up and work on the serum, that he was close to a breakthrough anyhow. Scully wanted to tell him he wasn't her mother, but she was exhausted, her arm ached and she was dirty. She needed a shower. Navigating the makeshift facility alone would be a challenge she wasn't sure she was up to, but she was set on trying anyhow. 

She began by using her good hand to unbutton the flannel shirt she wore. She shimmied one arm out of a sleeve, but got the rest of the shirt stuck on the sling holding her wounded arm.

"Need some help?" Mulder asked softly from behind her.

Yes, she did need help, but she really was not ready for Mulder -- or another life-form for that matter -- to give her any. Especially Mulder.

"No, Mulder. I can manage by myself," she said struggling, wincing as little bolts of lightening shot through her left arm, and not managing very well at all. "Damn it!"

"Scully, let me help you," he said, stopping her fumbling hand, holding it in both of his for a moment to keep her still. He brought her hand to his lips, brushed them over her knuckles, then he gingerly helped her to temporarily remove the sling, then the shirt.

"It's really too cold out here for a shower, Scully," he said, rubbing his warm hands over her shoulders and back, invading her space. She involuntarily closed both eyes. Her mind wanted to be alone, but her body was committing mutiny.

"I warmed a bucket over the fire. I was going to take a bath," she mumbled, pointing drunkenly in the general direction of a tin bucket with a sponge floating in the suds. The shower had hot water, which came from a large reservoir that the camp used to store most of its fresh water, and it had been rigged up to a hot water heater powered by a generator. The shower had been damaged in the alien attack, but mercifully, John had fixed it. The stall itself was nearly fully enclosed in plywood planks and fairly spacious, though it was open to the stars above. It even had a linoleum floor with a crude drainage hole. "And, I brought a space heater," she added, slurring her words slightly.

"Maybe we can do both." He reached past her to turn the shower knob. "I'll keep you warm," he whispered, a touch of sand in his voice. Mulder turned her around so he stood behind her and wrapped his right arm around her good side. His hand wandered over her stomach, over her breasts still clad in her sensible cotton bra.

"Mulder…" she had meant it as a warning, but it came out more as a moan. His open mouth applied gentle suction on the carotid artery of her neck, and she felt his tongue track her increasing pulse. His fingers smoothed down her sides, tickling the sensitive skin there until they reached the waistband of her jeans. He traced his fingers along her belt, loosened the buckle, slid her pants down her hips. After helping her step out of her boots and jeans, he picked up the sponge from the bucket, squeezed it, drizzling the excess water over her back before finally pressing the sponge softly against her. 

They were still standing outside the reach of the shower's spray. Scully was still wearing her underwear and Mulder was fully clothed in jeans and a gray thermal shirt.

"This doesn't change anything, Mulder," she said, her eyes closed. "I'm still angry with you."

He turned her back around to face him, but pressed up close against her. He backed them up so that they were standing in the spray from the shower. He was careful to place them so that he received the brunt of the water and so that her bandaged arm stayed relatively dry.

"You realize you're fully dressed, don't you?" she asked. His wet shirt had contoured around his chest, leaving little to her imagination, though she would have preferred to feel his skin against hers. She found the edge of his shirt, insinuated her hand underneath it, and touched his stomach, felt him shudder. 

"It's my attempt at making up. Do you know how horrible wet jeans feel?" he said dryly just before he lowered his head to kiss her firmly on the lips. She responded despite all that she felt. She was frustrated he had made the decision to take William on Tom's crazy mission without her, and that William had agreed. She was angry that she had been injured and couldn't go with them. She was heartbroken that she couldn't prevent her son from more pain and she was ashamed she could not keep him safe yet again. 

Scully smoothed the fingertips of her good hand over Mulder's neck, outlined his jaw rough from two days worth of growth as they kissed. When he finally released her lips, he remained close and sighed. "I promise I'll bring him back, Scully. I promise I'll keep him safe."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mulder," she said looking down. 

He lifted her chin with one finger. "I promise. To prove to you that I keep my promises, I promise that I'm about to make you feel really, really good." His hands strayed down to the waistband of her soaked underwear, pulled them down. 

He covered her lips with his own again before she could protest, and for that moment, she believed him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


	6. Part Six

PART SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Alexandria, Virginia

Summer 2000

"When do you leave?" Scully asked. She wandered around Mulder's apartment as he flitted from room to room, gathering items to pack for his trip. She'd been picking up random objects -- a framed photograph, a miniature jade alien, a book -- setting them down without really looking at them. She just wanted to touch pieces of him before he left. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt such a need to connect with him. They had gone on hundreds of trips, dozens of them without the other, over their seven years as partners. Somehow, this time was different.

"First available flight is in four hours. Skinner tried to get something sooner, but no luck," Mulder said. 

"Oh," she said, not really hearing him.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?" she answered as she picked up a stapler from his desk. 

"Are you okay?" There was concern in his voice and it snapped her attention away from the meaningless object, towards him.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Are you sure? Are you feeling sick again?"

"No, no, Mulder. I think whatever that was has passed," she said.

"Then what's wrong?" He stepped closer, throwing the shirt he held onto the corner chair. "I've never seen you so fascinated by office supplies before." 

She smiled contemplatively and set the stapler back down. "I guess I'm still uncomfortable with this trip. Something doesn't feel right."

"I'll have the Skin-man with me," he said, light in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. He was trying to soothe her, but she knew he understood the danger as well as she did. She returned his smile, trying to reassure him, too, and leaned backwards against his desk with her hands on the edge supporting her. He continued, "This is just another day in the life on the X-Files. I'm sure I'll come back with more questions than answers. It's no different than any other trip."

"If that were true, I'd be going with you," she said hoping there was no accusation creeping into her voice. It was as much her decision as it was his, or so she had convinced herself. He closed his mouth tightly, and looked down like he'd been rapped on the knuckles with a ruler. "Its okay, Mulder," she said, stepping closer to him, sliding her arms around his waist, clasping her hands together behind his back. "You know this is different now. We're different now. I just can't shake the feeling that something is about to change."

"Sometimes change is good," he said, looking down at her, lifting his brow.

"Sometimes," she echoed. She turned her head and laid it against his chest, pulling him tightly against her. After a long moment, she felt him pull away slightly. She looked up as he lowered his head and kissed her lips softly.

"Change can be very good," he said and kissed her again. 

It started innocently enough, but quickly turned frenzied, hungry. They had only been together a handful of times since their relationship had taken the inevitable turn towards intimacy. Each time had been slow and tender. She had never felt a need to dig her nails into his skin and claim him like she did now. She could tell by the way he kissed her that he felt it, too. The previous times they'd made love had felt like beginnings, exploration of new territory, but this already felt like goodbye. 

*Goodbye for now* she forced herself to qualify.

Without breaking the kiss, she unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushed it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She slid her hands over his white t-shirt-covered chest, over his clavicle, down his slim but toned sides. She twisted the bottom front of his t-shirt, bunching it in her fingers, and used the soft cotton as a rope to pull him towards her and through his bedroom door. 

Scattered all over his bed were clothes he'd been in the middle of packing along with a large blue duffle bag. She barely got her suit jacket off before he had pushed her backwards onto the bed, shoving the bag carelessly to the floor where it landed with a muffled puff. As his lips searched over her face, touching a different spot per second, they each absently threw the remaining clothes, both those from his bed and those they still wore, to meet the same fate as the duffle, until finally only skin was between them.

And this, wonderful as it was, felt like goodbye, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 27, 2012

10:34 am

"Scully, you look like hell," Mulder said, looking up to see her standing over him. He had been studying a worn-out map one of the others had given him.

"Thanks, Mulder. You always did know how to flatter a girl. I can't believe it took me seven years to sleep with you," she said, in exaggerated robot-like tone.

"Scully!" he said, gasping in mock-shock at her language. In response she merely rolled her eyes.

Mulder noticed her right hand was clenched tightly, holding something he couldn't see.

"What are you doing?" she asked, staring at nothing in the distance somewhere above his head.

"Trying to figure out the shortest route," he said. He didn't need to explain to where. Earlier in the morning Tom had explained to them that there were two "mother ships" within reasonable reach of their current location. Tom estimated they had until December 31 or January 1 at the latest to deliver the serum. After that, the aliens would probably have had their ceremony and been given his booster shot to allow them to safely colonize the rest of the planet. Once scattered on the Earth's surface, it would be nearly impossible to defeat them. 

That left them only three or four days to find the ship and release the new super serum Scully and Tom had been working on since yesterday. Unfortunately, Tom only knew of general areas where the ships might be hovering. The only positive piece of news was that each ship was enormous with a diameter not measured in feet or yards, but miles, so they would be easy to spot. And having already conquered most of Earth, they would have little need to cloak themselves. 

So they had two choices: head towards Saint Louis, Missouri or San Francisco, California. San Francisco was closer by about four hundred miles, but the highways would be much more congested with abandoned cars in California. Mulder felt Saint Louis would be the best choice. Either way, it was a gamble.

"When will you leave?" she asked, still not looking at him.

"Luckily, we should be able to make San Fran or Saint Louis in two days, but that's still cutting it closer than I'd prefer. I want to be back here by the 1st. It all depends on when you and Tom think you're ready with the serum."

"It's ready," she said simply.

Mulder stood up, folded the map haphazardly, and let it drop to the bench. It missed and landed on the dirt-covered rock ground instead. "It's ready?"

"Well, we still have to test it on the body… but yes," she said, opening her hand to reveal a small vial of the new Super Mesabi Ferrum. "I came over to tell you Tom and I are going out to the crash site. Monica is taking us."

"Let me grab a jacket and I'll be ready to go," he said, already moving towards the tent that had become their home.

"No," she said quickly. He stopped and turned to look at her, raising his brow in question. She softened her voice. "Stay here with Will. I don't want him to come with us, but I don't want to leave him alone, either."

"He won't be alone."

"Please, Mulder. Just stay with him," she said, exhaustion making her sound more desperate than she would have admitted to being.

"Okay," Mulder agreed, understanding her need to control the situation while she still had the chance. "We have preparations to make anyway."

The corner of Scully's mouth twitched in a melancholic smile. "Thank you. We'll be back soon," she said. "If it works, then you can leave before it gets dark." She turned to head back to the cave.

"Scully?"

She twisted her upper body around to look at him, but didn't speak.

"Never mind," he said, having no idea what he had wanted to say. "I'll see you when you get back."

She nodded and walked away. Mulder sighed and set off to find William. They had a lot to do before their journey. Mulder hoped this would not be their last together.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Kayenta Valley

December 27, 2012

11:52 am

"It's just over that little outcropping of rocks," Monica said, pointing towards the spot where the alien ship had crashed. She walked with Scully, a few yards ahead of Tom and Gibson, who at the last minute had decided to come along.

"I can smell it," Scully said, her face twisted as she sniffed the unpleasant combination of fuel and burnt flesh.

"I think it's worse now than when it happened," Monica said.

Gibson had decided to tag along, wanting to witness with his own eyes what he hoped was the beginning of the end. That thing at the crash site represented what he had felt blessed and cursed to have for his entire life, and he was surprised by how much he was looking forward to being near the alien when it burst into flames, or whatever would happen when the test of the serum succeeded. 

"It might not be that dramatic," Tom said, smirking. 

Gibson mimicked his smirk and said, "It's not that I'm bitter."

"You've suffered a lot in your life," Tom said.

"So have many others. You… them," he said nodding towards the women. "It's not that I want revenge. I just want to see the end."

"Closure," Tom said with understanding.

"Closure," Gibson echoed in agreement. "I wish I could go with you." Tom sighed and Gibson quickly added, "But I know I can't. I don't want Will to have to do this alone. I know how hard it can be and what he has to do is so much more than what I ever had to do. It's overwhelming."

"He won't be alone," Tom said.

"Not until just before the end, anyway," Gibson said. He stopped walking and stuck his hand out to stop Tom. His face grew very serious. "Keep an eye on Mulder. Sometimes his passion gets in the way of his reason, but there's nobody else you'd want with you on a job like this. That is, so long as you don't let him get you killed." A slow smile spread across Gibson's face.

Tom smiled and laughed out loud. "I'll try to remember that."

"Hey, you two slow pokes! Come on!" Monica called. She and Scully were standing only a few feet from the wreckage, so Gibson and Tom jogged the last few yards to join them. 

"Over there is where Joy turned the black oil into powder," Gibson said, indicating a spot on their collective left. 

"I wish I had more time to study that," Tom said.

"Let's do this," Scully said without much emotion.

Tom nodded and swung his backpack off his shoulder. He knelt down on the ground and pulled a small lunch sized cooler out of the bag. "You all might want to step back. I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen."

Gibson and Monica took a few steps away from the crumpled spaceship. The body of the alien still sat in the cockpit. Its skin, normally gray, was a deep charcoal. "Why didn't it turn into green goo like all the other aliens I've seen?" Gibson asked.

"That only happens when you rupture the sack in the back of the neck. This guy was spit-roasted," Tom said as he opened the cooler and pulled out the small vial of serum. Scully stood next to him, not heeding his advice to move away.

"Doctor Scully, I would feel better if you stood over there," Tom said. Gibson detected a note of nervousness in his voice. Scully looked as if she would ignore him, but after a moment, she stepped over to where Gibson and Monica stood, away from the ship. 

Tom straightened up, and stepped forward closer to the body. He kept the vial behind his back, clenched tightly in his fist. "Please work," Tom muttered. Gibson couldn't hear him, but he knew that's what Tom had said. Finally, Tom moved his hand in front of his body, twisted the top off of the small glass container, and leaned towards the dead Gray's body. He held the vial only inches away and immediately the body began to tremor. With his free hand, he reached out and attempted to lift the visor the alien had over its face, but it crumbled leaving a large open area over its head. "Here goes," Tom said, louder so that everyone could hear. Then he poured the amber liquid over what had been the Gray's eyes and took a step back.

It seemed that nothing was going to happen. Tom's shoulders slumped and he turned around to face the others. "Well, that doesn't mean it was a failure. The body definitely reacted, but without a live specimen it's hard to say --"

"Whoa!" Monica said as a flame burst up from the alien, sounding like someone had suddenly squeezed a bellows to fan a fire. The flame was small, and it lasted for only a second before it fizzled into a smoldering spiral of smoke.

Tom quickly turned around, his eyes wide. "That's more like it," he said.

Gibson watched Scully's reaction from the corner of his eye. She smiled, but Gibson saw anxiety cross over her face. In spite of all of the fear she had for William and Mulder and the journey they had in front of them, she said, "We better get back then. There's no time to waste."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 27, 2012

12:21 pm

Mulder wasn't sure why, but he'd been surprised by how little time it had taken him to pack. All of his worldly possessions had either been destroyed when the missile hit the truck, or could fit into a small four-man dome tent, and most would be staying there with Scully. All they needed was food, enough clothes to keep them warm, the serum and some other miscellaneous items. He'd always loved traveling. When he and Scully had been agents, and before William had come, he had thought of the random hotels they'd lived in while in the field as home more than he had his apartment. But right now, he'd give anything to just stay still. One way or another, this would be his last case.

He'd left William to pack a backpack an hour ago, but Mulder hadn't seen him since. Even though William had volunteered to do this, Mulder still wondered if there wasn't a way to talk his son out of going. Mulder could always put his foot down, force Tom to leave William behind, but he knew that would accomplish nothing. Yet, he needed to know that William was truly prepared for what he was asking him to do.

Mulder wandered around the camp and finally found William inside the cave sitting on the rock floor next to a still unconscious Jeremiah Smith.

"Will, do you need any help with your bag?" Mulder asked, his voice lowered slightly above a whisper.

William looked up, shook his head. "I'm ready."

Mulder lowered himself to the ground. His aching joints cracked as he crossed his legs over each other on the opposite side of Smith from William. "I want to talk to you about that. Are you sure you want to go? I won't make you if you've changed your mind."

"I'm still going. I don't have a choice," William said.

"Yes, you do. It's a lot to ask of anyone. It's going to be very dangerous. It's probably very irresponsible of me to let you go," Mulder said, training his eyes on Smith's relaxed face for want of anything to look at besides William's eyes.

"My dad would have said 'no,'" William said. 

Mulder swallowed. "Yes, he probably would have."

"Do you think he dreams?" William asked.

Mulder looked up, not understanding. "Your dad?"

William shook his head, nodded towards Smith. 

"Oh," Mulder said. "Probably he does."

"I think so, too," William agreed, more to himself. "I'm ready to do this. I know it will be scary, but you'll be with me, right?"

Mulder nodded. "I'll definitely be with you."

"Good," William said. "Then it's time." William stood up.

"We can't leave until Scully and Tom come back," Mulder said, standing up, his joints creaking in reverse. 

"They're back," William said. Then he did something Mulder had not seen him do for a long time. William smiled from ear to ear, then his face settled into serene contentment. He held out his hand for Mulder to take. When Mulder did, William added, "Let's go."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 27, 2012

3: 56 pm

Mulder loosely held Scully's hand as they walked from the tent to what could be considered the main gate to Canyon City, if there were actually a gate. It was really just the place where the great high walls of the canyon tapered in towards each other creating a narrow opening, too small even for a vehicle to fit through. It occurred to Mulder that they'd never held hands much before. It had never been their style. In private, they were very affectionate with each other, but even after they'd moved from partners and friends to lovers and parents their outward displays had remained reserved. If he returned from this journey alive that was one thing Mulder planned to change. He never wanted Scully to question how he felt about her, or to miss one opportunity to let the world know what she meant to him.

Mulder looked down, squeezed her hand. She looked up, lowered a brow and Mulder saw the emotion he felt reflected back to him in her eyes. "I love you, Scully. You know that, right?" he said.

A faint whisper of a smile flitted over her mouth. "I've never doubted it, Mulder. I love you, too."

"But I want you to know --" he started. She let go of his hand and touched her fingers to his lips, silencing him. 

"You can tell me later. When you and Will come back," she said, then she added, "And, I will be expecting my New Year's kiss." The kiss had become a tradition of theirs, as it was for many, but for them it was not merely a holiday ritual, but an anniversary of their first kiss and a symbol of new and wonderful things to come. 

Mulder laughed softly and nodded. "Okay." He laced his hand back with hers and they continued walking towards the gate. A not-so-small group had gathered near the gate to send Tom, William and Mulder off on their mission. Tom and William were already there waiting and were joined by Monica, Doggett, Gibson, Aiden, Joy and all of the children Tom had rescued from the laboratory. William was talking with a few of the children, while the boy named Chris helped Tom load Monica's car.

"I'm always late to the party," Mulder said, reaching his hand out to shake with Doggett's. 

"You're the guest of honor," Doggett said, shaking firmly.

"Nah, I'm the geek nobody invited."

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Doggett asked.

"I'd love to have you, but I had to sell my soul to get this ticket. It's Tom's ship. Thank you for asking, though," Mulder said.

Monica scooted up next to Doggett and Mulder stuck his hand out to shake like he had before. Monica took one look and ignored the gesture. She put her arms around him, pulling him tightly for a quick bear hug. "Good luck and be careful," she said, releasing him. "I expect to see my car returned in the same condition that I'm leaving it in. That's a rental and I plan on getting my deposit back."

"I'll do my best," Mulder said, laughing. 

"That means the car is scrap metal," Gibson said, stepping over to them. Mulder grinned as he shook Gibson's hand. He regretted that he hadn't had much time to talk to Gibson since they'd arrived at Canyon City. There had been a time when Gibson had been like a surrogate son to Mulder. He'd relied on Gibson's unusual composure beyond his years to get through his separation from Scully and newborn William. 

Mulder glanced over to Scully. She had moved away and was speaking with Tom, so Mulder pulled Gibson closer. "Keep an eye on her for me while I'm gone, okay?" he said in a low voice.

Gibson nodded. "She'd kick your ass if she heard you say that."

Mulder smiled. "I know. I'm looking forward to it," he said. He turned back to watch Tom move away from Scully. His eyes settled on William who was surrounded by the other children, some William's age, some younger and a few older. Mulder did not need to be telepathic to know how badly Scully wanted to wrap her arm around William and never let go. He admired her for her ability to leave him in spite of that impulse.

"You okay?" Mulder asked, sidling up next to her, slipping his arm over her shoulder.

She smiled sadly. "No, but when you bring him back I will be," she said. "Look," she added, nodding towards William. Joy stood next to him. She looked like she wanted to tell William something, but she hesitated. Instead, she pulled a box of Sweet Tarts from behind her back and held them with two hands in front of her stomach. She paused for a moment before she quickly thrust her hands and the box towards William. He accepted the gift, smiling graciously. Then the girl surprised them all.

"Good luck, Will," she said before quickly turning on her heels and running away.

"Oh my God!" Monica said, covering her mouth with both hands.

"We were beginning to wonder if she'd ever say anything again," Doggett said, wrapping an arm around Monica. "Guess things are looking up already." 

They stood quietly together for a moment, each knowing that time was growing short, but wanting to stretch it as long as possible.

"Oh, Mulder, I almost forgot," Scully said, stepping out of his embrace and reaching behind her back with her healthy arm to pull out her gun. "It's got a full clip and I stuck a box of ammunition in your backpack."

"Scully, you should keep that. I can't do much damage to the aliens with it anyway. Plus, you were always a better shot than me. I'll probably just lose the thing," he said.

"Well, that's true, but you'll need it much more than I will. I'm in the safest place on the planet."

"Scully --"

"Mulder, just take it. Who knows who or what you'll find out there," she said.

Mulder relented, taking the weapon and putting it safely into his backpack to join the box of ammo. "Well," he said, drawing the word out, "we should get moving. Ready to go, Tom?" he called.

A few feet away, Tom nodded and threw one last item into the little Honda. Mulder watched him hug Chris, who looked slightly uncomfortable with the gesture. He didn't pull away, though and eventually wrapped his arms around Tom in return. Doggett and Monica had moved away, so that Mulder and Scully now stood apart from the others. 

Mulder touched his finger to Scully's face, sliding it along her jaw and then he kissed her softly. "We'll both see you soon," he whispered. She didn't say anything in return, but Mulder saw everything he needed to hear in her eyes.

When he looked away from her, he was surprised to see William only a few feet away watching them. "Are you ready to go, big guy?" Mulder asked.

William nodded and took a step forward towards Scully. Mulder glanced at her. Her face was fighting for control over her emotions and losing. She was still not sure what role she had in William's life. They had grown closer during their trip to Canyon City, but since Rob's death, William had retreated from her. 

"I want you to stay safe," she said, bending over as much as she could without jostling her arm too much. "The minute you're too afraid to continue, you tell Mulder you want to come back here."

William pressed his lips together, tensed his chin. "I'll be okay," he said. He stuck his hand inside his pocket, pulled something out. "I still have this," he said opening his hand to reveal the finger smudged golden badge she had given to him for Christmas.

Mulder heard Scully suck in a shaky breath, and watched one renegade tear fall down her cheek in spite of her attempt to hold it back. 

"I'll be okay, Dana," he repeated as he stepped forward and carefully wrapped his arms around her waist avoiding her injured arm. After the initial shock wore off Scully's face, she slid her right arm over William's shoulder and clutched onto his jacket, holding him tightly. 

As Mulder watched the woman he loved and their son embrace, he wanted to believe what William had said would be the truth.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Canyon City

December 27, 2012

5:46 pm

"Hey, Monica!" John called from ten feet behind her. He hadn't meant to say it quite so loud, but she reacted like he'd dropped a thousand pound bomb next to her rather than simply said her name. The pita bread sandwich she'd been very slowly preparing flew out of her hands and landed on the dirt with a sticky plop. 

"Jesus, Monica, I'm sorry," he said stepping closer to stand in front of her. "You must have been a million miles away just now."

She bent over, picked up the ruined pocket of pita bread, as her cheeks turned a deep red. "I think I was. Sorry," she said.

"What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged. "Nothing specific. Making the perfect PB and J. Mulder and Will. The fate of the world and the impending alien Colonization."

"So, nothing too heavy, then," he said flatly. 

"Nothing much," she said mimicking his tone, then smiling broadly.

"Well, I just came over to ask if you wanted to come with me."

"Where are you going?" Monica asked brushing her hands together to remove the dirt acquired when she had picked the filthy piece of bread off the ground.

"Thought I'd take a drive back out to the parking lot. Search the wreckage one more time to see if anything is salvageable. We didn't really have the time before. Besides, I'm going crazy in this camp," he added. "I hate just sitting around waiting for something to happen."

Monica put her hands on her hips. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll take a rain check," she said sounding less sure than he'd ever heard her before. He had a suspicion it had something to do with Joy. Ever since the girl had spoken to William, Monica hadn't seemed quite like herself. Joy had yet to speak to Monica directly. 

"Monica, she's okay," John said.

"I know she is. That's not why I don't want to go with you," she said a little defensively.

"Okay, all right," he said holding his hands up to surrender. "I just thought it would be something to do."

"I'm sorry, John," she said stepping into his space. "You should take Gibson or Aiden. I don't want to leave Dana. She's resting now but I think she's in more pain than she's letting on. You don't happen to have any Vicodin lying around, do you?"

He smirked. "No, I don't, sorry."

"I just want to make sure I'm here in case she needs anything. I was trying to make some sandwiches. I don't think she's eaten since yesterday, and that was because Mulder made her."

"That's not good," John said.

Monica turned her head quickly and John followed her gaze. Joy and some of the other children ran by, laughing. Joy caught Monica's eyes, smiled and waved. Monica returned the gesture, but before Joy noticed, she was off again on some adventure with her adopted siblings.

"It's amazing, isn't it," she said, still looking to where the kids had been standing.

"What is?" John asked.

"The connection they all have. Even with William, though they all just met him yesterday." She turned back to look at John, smiled that broad smile again that only Monica could really pull off. "She's so happy here."

"Yeah, seems so. I suppose people tend to bond with people they are similar to. Makes it easier to understand what they're going through and those kids aren't like anyone else but each other."

"What about us?"

"What about us?" he asked, wondering when he missed the shift in topic.

"Well, we're not similar at all, yet I think we have a special bond."

Not a shift in topic, just in subject. Caught up to her train of thought he asked "You don't think we're alike?"

"Ah… no."

"Okay, you're right, but instead we have common experiences and that's just as good. Sometimes it's better."

"Do you think we'd be as close as we've become without those common experiences?" she asked. John had never applied coyness to Monica, but he did now. She was fishing. He found it impossibly cute.

"Honestly, no. I am not your type," he said.

"What is my type?"

John scratched the back of his head, made a face like he was in deep thought. "The kind of guy who goes to Grateful Dead concerts," he said.

She tapped him hard on the chest. "How old do you think I am, John?" She sounded offended, but she was smiling and her eyes sparkled with amusement. 

Smiling back he said, "I just mean that a meat and potatoes guy like me is a little too boring for you."

"I'm boring," she protested.

"Monica, my idea of a good time is sitting on my couch with a cold beer watching NASCAR," he said. Abruptly, he stopped speaking and stood stone still. "Holy shit!" He ran his fingers through his hair. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern taking over the humor in her voice.

John waved his hand, warding off her alarm. "It's okay. I just realized that I'm never going to get to do that again. I mean, I *knew* it, but wow… it just hit me all at once exactly how much has changed. No more NASCAR, no more Giants football games, no more hotdogs from Asad on the corner of 14th and Constitution. That guy makes the best relish I've ever had. *Made* the best relish I've ever had. He's gone now. It's all gone," he said.

"I know. It's unbelievable, really," she said, quietly. "Do you think you'll go back?"

"Go back where?" he asked still dazed.

"To your house… back east. I mean, once we get through whatever's coming," she clarified.

"I don't know. I suppose," he said, then paused and shook his head. "No, you know what? There's nothing there I need that I can't get somewhere else. I have pictures of Luke in my wallet and all the people who matter to me are right here. You're here," he said, feeling his cheeks flush. He'd never been particularly good at expressing his feelings verbally. That, more than his son's death, had caused the failure of his marriage, but he was willing to try now, especially after his revelation that the world as he knew it was gone forever. If now wasn't the time for changing his personal habits, that time would never come. "How about you? Back to Mexico, maybe?"

Monica shook her head. Her eyes remained bright, but her smile faded. "I feel the same. I don't want to leave Joy and I know she likes it here for now. I was hoping you'd stay with us. I know this place is a bit dull, but…"

John smiled, stepped close to her, finally deciding to be bold instead of letting her make all the moves. He cupped her face in his hands, hesitating only to look into her eyes, then he gently kissed her. His heart stopped briefly until she responded, leaning into his body, wrapping her arms around him and most decidedly kissing him back. They mingled together for a long time until they softly parted.

Monica grinned, touched his face, smoothing her fingers over his cheeks. "See we're not so different. Next thing I know, you'll be a 'Dead Head', too."

He laughed as he kissed her again.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 27, 2012

6:22 pm

Scully shifted her weight from her right side to the left, trying anything to become a little less uncomfortable than she was. As she moved, her left elbow brushed against the arm of the green nylon camping chair she sat in, sending fire through her wounded arm all the way to the base of her neck. She bit her lip to stifle a cry, trying to preserve her dignity even though there was no one else in the cave aside from Jeremiah Smith, who's bedside she watched over. She closed her eyes tightly and breathed deeply, waiting for the pain to subside. 

She dropped her research-filled notebook onto her lap and touched her good hand to her forehead, first using the back of her hand then her fingertips along her sweat-dampened hairline. Her face was hot, even to her own hand.

"Dana?" Monica's voice was soft, tinged with alarm.

Scully opened her eyes, looked up. Monica stood beside her chair holding a sandwich and a bottle of water.

"I thought I might find you in here," Monica said. She glanced briefly to the corner of the cave where Smith was still unconscious on his bed of sleeping bags and air mattresses. "I made you a sandwich. I know you hate people mothering you, but you really should eat something. You don't look well, Dana."

Scully gave her best attempt at a sincere smile and came up just short. "Thank you, Monica. I'll try," she said, holding her hand out to accept the PB and J stuffed half of a pita. 

Monica pulled a matching chair closer to Scully and sat down, loosening the cap on the water bottle before setting it on the ground within Scully's reach. She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. "How are you feeling?" Monica asked, frowning.

Scully set the sandwich on top of the notebook in her lap and picked at an edge. Her stomach turned at the thought of eating it, though she knew she should. Scully sighed. "Not very well. I think my arm is infected," she said with little emotion but exhaustion.

"Oh, Dana, no. I thought it was doing better. Painful, but healing."

"It was, but infections are common enough in the best circumstances, and everything out here is covered in dirt."

"How long?"

"I'm not sure. I wasn't feeling well this afternoon, but thought I was just tired from working on the serum all night. I woke up about a half an hour ago with chills and the wound is definitely inflamed."

"What can I do to help you?"

"Unfortunately, nothing. I don't have any antibiotics. I've applied more antiseptic cream from the First Aid Kit, but at this point, it won't do much good."

"What happens if you don't get what you need?"

"The wound will go septic and I'll go into shock. Then I'll die," she said.

"The nearest town is twenty miles away. It's pretty small, but there must be a pharmacy. Tell me what you need and I'll go and get it. We should have done this yesterday."

"Didn't have time," Scully said, her lip quivering as she inhaled.

"Oh, my god, Dana, you're shaking."

"Fever and chills are common symptoms of sepsis."

"Tell me what to get and I'll bring it back here. Penicillin? Amoxicillin?"

Scully shook her head. "Without knowing exactly what bacteria it is, it will be impossible to know which antibiotic would be the most effective. If I go into shock, treatment typically includes re-hydration using intravenous fluids and high doses of combined antibiotics. I don't think you'll be able to find those and if you could, I'm not sure you could administer it. By that point, I would probably be unconscious."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that. Let me try, Dana. Please," Monica pleaded. She grabbed Scully's notebook and a pen that had been lying on the floor and tore a blank page out, prepared to write down whatever Scully told her.

"Okay. Get anything with '-cillin' at the end of it. If you can find it, Tetracycline or Vancomycin would be better, but pay close attention to the expiration date. Mefoxin, Cefadroxil, Cefobid, Ultracef, which are all cephalosporin's, would be best. They are broad spectrum antibiotics. Better suited to fight unknown bacteria. Just get whatever you can find."

"I'll get Aiden and leave right away. He should know the fastest route into town and he can help me dodge any alien lurkers or whoever else might be out there," Monica said, standing up. "Hang in there, Dana, okay?"

Scully smiled tight lipped, nodded. "Thank you, Monica. For everything. Not just this."

Monica shook her head, not understanding. 

"You've always been a good friend, even when you didn't know me very well. I never told you that. I should have long before now."

"You can tell me again later. I'll be back soon," Monica said and she was gone. 

Another chill shot up Scully's body. She inhaled deeply and looked to Jeremiah Smith. "Feel free to wake up any time."

^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had been so long since he had been there, that at first he didn't recognize the two moons on the horizon and the red-tinted sky of his home. He looked down at his fingers, long and gray and completely foreign to him. He closed his eyes. He may have been born on this world, but it no more felt like his home than if he were standing inside a black hole. 

The next thing Jeremiah Smith saw when he opened his eyes was darkness. 

Slowly, a faint blue light blinked into view, then another and another until he was aware he was standing inside a vessel of some kind. A space ship most likely. He looked down at his hands again, this time he saw the pinkish pale skin of human flesh. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they belonged to him. They did and he was surprised to see his hands were not restricted, neither were his feet. 

"Hello?" he called, his voice echoed inside the vast space. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer. He glanced around the ship. It looked like he was in a control room of some kind. The Bridge of the ship, maybe, but that made little sense. He had never been permitted inside a control room, and he could not fathom why he would be here alone now.

"You always believed you were alone, even when you weren't," a voice boomed inside his mind. Jeremiah looked around. The source of a telepathic message was normally close by.

"I won't help you!" he shouted. "This is wrong. What right do you have to destroy an entire race? An entire species? One that is your progeny?" Jeremiah continued whirling around, searching for a face. He was tired of the Grays always hiding in the shadows. He knew what would come next. It always did -- the endless mindgames. First, they would appeal to his sense of family, of loyalty, of honor, then would come bribery and finally unspeakable cruelty. He always knew the torture would stop just short of his death. He knew they needed him. He had half a mind to just end his own life, not give them the satisfaction any longer. 

"That would sadden me a great deal, Jeremiah," the voice said. 

That was strange. Never had the Grays called him by his human name. In fact, they had never spoken to him in English, now that he thought about it. Not when they spoke inside his mind. 

"You see yourself as human. It makes sense for me to converse with you in your language of choice, does it not?"

"Who are you?" Jeremiah finally asked. 

"I think you know, though you only recently admitted that to yourself. Humans and Grays have a bad habit of playing games with even themselves. That keeps the truth from being revealed much longer than necessary."

"Do I know you? Have we met?"

"You have done great work, but so much more must be done. William will yet need your help."

"William? What do you know of William?" Jeremiah asked. 

"He is on a quest."

"Yes," Jeremiah said, more to himself. Somehow he knew this. William was traveling with Tom and Mulder.

"They are fulfilling my prophesy. Soon there will be an end to this subjugation of one brother over the other. One way, or another, all will end soon."

"How can I help him if I am here inside this ship?" Jeremiah asked, still skeptical of whoever this voice belonged to. He knew there were other Grays loyal to his cause of peace, but he never knew of any with a ship such as this. All of the Grays in power were determined to exterminate mankind and take over the planet, casting their petty revenge upon humanity. 

"You are not aboard a ship. You are dreaming you are aboard a ship. In actuality you are unconscious surrounded by friends at the place you have called home for several years."

"Unconscious? Will I wake up soon if I am to help William?"

"No. Hundreds of miles separate you and he and you will need deep concentration to maintain a link with his mind. You have already spoken with him in his dreams, and must speak with him again very soon. You should familiarize yourself with this ship in the meantime while you wait for him to seek you. He will need your knowledge and council."

"Who are you?" he asked again, exasperated. 

"If you do not know, then I cannot answer."

"Then why do you help me? How can I believe this isn't a trick?"

"You must decide what you believe, and who you believe in, Jeremiah. I help because even though I choose not to impose my will, sometimes a little nudge in the right direction is required."

Jeremiah believed he must be mistaken, but he thought he heard the voice laugh. Grays were not typically known for their senses of humor.

"Pity," the voice said. Suddenly, the lights inside the ship blinked out and Jeremiah no longer felt the source of the voice inside his mind. 

A moment later, the lights returned, brighter than before. The control room, which had been empty during his conversation with the voice, was now filled with Grays. He froze, expecting someone to seize him. No one did. Individuals walked past him without acknowledging his presence. He turned to see someone coming towards him, but he was too slow to move, and the Gray walked right through him. Jeremiah didn't feel anything.

"I'm dead," he said aloud.

Nobody heard him, either.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Interstate 44, Oklahoma

December 28, 2012

4 am CST

They were making excellent time.

The long stretches of desert highway through Arizona and New Mexico were virtually empty of stalled cars or other obstacles, and there was a definite advantage to traveling with a man who required very little sleep. Taking Monica's Honda rather than one of Canyon City's extra SUV's was a good choice, allowing them to make fewer refueling stops. With no highway patrol to worry about, Tom could push the car as fast as he was comfortable driving within the vehicle's limits while Mulder and William got much needed rest.

Awake now, after a surprisingly sound six hours of sleep, Mulder straightened in his seat and tried to discern where they were through the early morning darkness.

"Just east of Oklahoma City. Traffic's starting to get thicker," Tom said. 

Mulder chuffed at Tom's choice of the word traffic. Rush hour had been frozen in time. "How are you doing? Need a break?" Mulder asked. He cleared his throat, wiped some sleep from the corner of his right eye.

"No, I'm okay," Tom said unconvincingly.

"I think you should try to sleep a little. You may not need it, but you look exhausted. We'll need you at your best."

Tom smiled, scratched his head. "Okay, thanks." He slowed the car down and unnecessarily pulled over to the side of the road, bringing it to a full stop. William slept as Mulder and Tom swapped positions.

Before Mulder put the car in drive he turned his head towards Tom. "How close do you think we are? I don't want to look up one moment to find we're under the damn thing."

"Not likely. If we're on the right track at all, we'll see it long before we're under it. The ship's scale is almost unimaginable."

"I think I was aboard one once," Mulder said.

"No, you were aboard a science ship. Looks similar, but is a lot smaller and more maneuverable. It has fewer crew and no passengers, except for the abductees," Tom said this like he was reading a description on a car he was interested in buying.

Mulder put the car in drive and pulled the car back onto the interstate without saying more.

"You're thinking that was a pretty cold synopsis of a horrifying experience of yours, aren't you?" he asked.

"No, I understand," Mulder said sounding like he didn't even though it was the truth. "You weren't the man in charge, just the worker bee."

"Maybe, but I also believed that I was doing the right thing."

Mulder turned his head quickly towards Tom, then back to the road.

"At least, at first," Tom added. "By the time I came to my senses, I was in too deep. I'm no Fox Mulder," Tom said, smiling.

Mulder laughed. "Yeah, most people give up after the second or third ass kicking," he said glancing over to his unlikely travel companion.

"It's true," Tom said, seriously. "I really admired you, Mulder. As precarious as your position always was you never gave up."

"I almost did. More than once," Mulder admitted.

"Why didn't you?"

"Scully. She always pulled me back, or gave me focus, even if she didn't mean to. And then Will came," Mulder said, nodding towards the back seat where William was slumped over, leaning his head on the rear passenger side door. "It's amazing how much one person can change your life. Even though he wasn't with us, he has been the driving force behind everything Scully and I have done for the past ten years. I want him to grow up. Have the life he chooses to live, not one that is predetermined for him."

Tom nodded, though Mulder suspected it was more out of something to do than true empathy. The car grew silent again. Mulder looked out in front of him. In the sky he could only see stars and wondered just when he would see what they were seeking. And what they would do when they found it. 

"So, why don't you tell me this plan of yours," Mulder said.

^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

3:35 am

Monica gripped the leather seat of the soft top-covered Jeep as Aiden sped through rocky twists and turns back towards the camp. She was convinced that if he didn't drive them over a cliff, one of his sudden jerks of the steering wheel would send her flying through the plastic window head first instead. She didn't want to know how or if Aiden could see ahead fast enough to decide where to go. He seemed to be driving faster than the light of the Jeep's headlamps could project.

"I was never very good at physics, but I'm sure light can travel much faster than eighty," he deadpanned. 

"Ha, ha, ha. Funny. Seriously, could you slow down? We won't be able to help Dana at all if we're dead."

"I think *I'd* survive a crash," he said.

"When did you grow this sense of humor? I want my friend back. The guy whose face didn't move when John drove an axe into his chest," Monica said.

"Relax Monica. I've been driving out here for a long time now and I can see very well in the dark."

"How well, or do I not want to know?"

"You don't want to know," he said. 

The radio crackled to life, startling Monica's frayed nerves even more, as John's voice came from the other end. "Monica, you there? Where are you guys?"

Monica and Aiden had left to find antibiotics for Scully several hours earlier. They'd gone to four pharmacies before they finally found what they'd been looking for. Seemed that in the day following the initial onset of the Plague, drugstores had been looted, either by thugs thinking they could profit on the chaos, or on people panicked by whatever was killing their friends and family members. 

They'd radioed back to John at the camp regularly, and he would report on Scully's condition. She was still conscious, fitfully sleeping for short periods, but her fever seemed to be soaring and she couldn't stop shaking. 

Monica picked up the radio, pressed the button to talk. "We're almost there."

"Okay," John said simply, then added, "Hurry," and the radio was silent. 

Monica glanced over at Aiden. He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal even more, and Monica just closed her eyes in prayer that they'd arrive at camp and that they wouldn't bee too late.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

North of Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

10:13 am

"Maybe we should have kept going east," Mulder said, squinting as he looked through the windshield to the sky above. Thick overcast clouds stretched all across the horizon, but there was no sign of a massive space ship.

"No, it's got to be here somewhere," Tom insisted. He'd read the reports, seen the maps. One of the five ships had to be close, he was positive. Nothing would preclude the aliens from moving, especially after he'd kidnapped the children. Though, Tom was willing to bet that Claire and the Project leaders were doing their best to keep that truth from the Grays. Above all else, Claire cared about her own ass first.

"Well, I need to stop for another fill up," Mulder said slowing down to pull off of US Highway 61 and into a BP Station. They'd just passed through Hannibal, the boyhood home of Mark Twain and this gas station looked to be the only sign of former civilization for several miles. 

The gas station was literally in the middle of nowhere, only the highway stretched to the north and south, to the east was the Mighty Mississippi River. All three of them got out of the car, taking every opportunity to stretch their legs.

"Stay close by, Will," Mulder said as he unscrewed the gas cap.

William nodded and wandered near the main store doors, but was careful not to go inside. 

Mulder tried the pump first to see if it was connected to a generator, but it only clicked, so he and Tom began the familiar ritual of siphoning fuel directly from the main tanks.

"Tom, I really think you need to tell me your master plan," Mulder said, his brow creased in irritation, as he pried open the huge tank's heavy lid. During the entire drive, Tom had successfully diverted Mulder's attention away from "the plan." It wasn't because Tom didn't have a plan; it was because he wanted to keep Mulder in the dark about it, for Mulder's own safety and for William's. For the safety of everyone still left alive on Earth. 

Tom glanced at William. The boy caught his eye and looked down to his feet quickly. Tom wasn't happy with what he had asked the boy to do, but he knew it was necessary. They needed to ditch Mulder. The ship was close, Tom could feel it. He could hear the voices of the Grays on board. Tom was *mostly* certain that once the ship was in view, he and William could easily get on board. He was also *mostly* certain that it would ignore Mulder, though Tom would have preferred if Mulder was not around at all when the ship appeared, just in case.

To the sensors on the ship, William and Tom would appear like any other alien. Mulder would just be a human. One single human wandering around beneath a "Mother Ship" would not alert security forces. Two "aliens" appearing on their sensors would initiate an auto-tractor beam to bring them into the ship. With any luck, they would enter the ship with minimal attention. Tom had allowed Mulder to come along, knowing he wouldn’t' be able to stop him and understanding the importance of keeping a friendly face near William for as long as possible, though William had yet again showed composure beyond his years even while Tom explained his plan via the link between their minds. 

"You have no plan, do you?" Mulder asked.

Tom froze. He'd been careful to control his thoughts. Mulder was getting better at picking them up.

"I don't have to read your mind. It's written all over your face. I used to do this for a living you know," Mulder said, shoving the end of a long hose they'd found into the car's gas tank. 

"You might be a little rusty," Tom said absently. 

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Mulder, I told you before that your presence here will put William in danger. I meant it." 

"You're planning to take William without me?" Mulder whirled around to face Tom squarely, crossing his arms. 

Tom sighed. "You have to let us go. It's the only way. You'll never get on board anyway." 

"You're not going anywhere without me. I'm not leaving him."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. He meant it. He knew what Mulder had been through. Tom had read about all of the personal costs this man and William's mother had suffered. He wished he didn't have to inflict another.

"I will not sacrifice my son," Mulder said. He pulled Scully's gun from his waistband and pointed it at Tom.

"You know that won't work on me," Tom said, tiredly.

"It'll hurt you. Slow you down. And it'll make me feel good," Mulder said.

"Mulder --"

"Wait! Where's Will?" Mulder looked around as he lowered the gun. Tom looked as well. Around the side of the station, and between it and the river, was a large flat field, splotches of snow dotted it, but mostly it was covered by brown lifeless grass. In the middle of the field William stood. He looked up to the sky, motionless. Tom followed the boy's gaze. The sky was still mostly covered with dull, gray clouds, but directly above William a break in the overcast was opening up, swirling from the center like a vortex and expanding. 

Then a blue light shot out of the vortex, brighter than any light Tom had ever seen before.

"No!" Mulder yelled and ran towards William. Tom started after him, stopped and opened the car door, grabbing two vials of the serum before he followed. William spread his arms wide as he was lifted off the ground into the air. As Tom got closer, he too felt his feet leave the ground in parallel to William. Mulder glanced briefly towards Tom, then away, and increased his speed towards his son. He reached him as William was slightly more than Mulder's height off of the ground.

Tom watched as Mulder grabbed at William's ankles, grasping pant legs, shoes, laces, anything connected to his son. He continued to shout "No, no, no!" Tom's heart broke for the man, but if all ended well, he'd be able to tell Mulder in person how sorry he was it had to come to this. 

Finally, Tom looked up into the light and watched as he drew closer to either heaven or hell.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

North of Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

10:29 am

This was not happening, Mulder thought, as he ran towards William at full speed. Time had worn Mulder's body down more than he would have preferred, but he could still haul ass when properly motivated. He had never been more motivated than he was right now.

William hovered eight feet off the ground by the time Mulder had reached him. Without thinking, Mulder leapt, grabbing for any part of his son that he could hang on to. He missed. His fingers grazed William's left pant leg, but Mulder couldn't hold his grip. William continued to rise. He seemed to be caught in an alien tractor beam of some kind. Mulder took a few steps backward and ran towards William once more as if trying to dunk a basketball. He willed the muscles in his legs to give everything they could and not fail him.

Mulder jumped. This time, he held on.

With one hand, he had a fistful of William's pant leg. Mulder's weight had slowed William's ascent a little bit, but Mulder could still feel them rising. He'd rather pull William back to terra firma, but if necessary he would allow the tractor beam to take him along, instead. 

He would not let go. 

^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

9:33 am

Gibson watched fascinated as Scully's eyes fluttered in her sleep. He was tempted to pry into her mind, see what she was dreaming about, but he didn't. He didn't need telepathy to know. She'd been talking on and off as she slept. Not a lot, but occasionally a word would slip through her unconscious. "Mulder." "Will." Words expected.

Monica had given Scully antibiotics in the early morning hours, but so far they'd had little noticeable effect. Gibson had no idea how long was reasonable before they noticed an improvement; he didn't understand exactly how the drugs should work either, but to him, she seemed worse. Her fever had spiked and she shook uncontrollably, even in her sleep. He hoped she was only sleeping and not in a septic shock-induced coma. He suspected she wouldn't be talking if that were the case.

"You have to get better," Gibson said softly, looking down at his hands rather than at her. "I promised Mulder you'd be okay."

"I'm going to kick Mulder's ass for asking you to check up on me," Scully muttered weakly, her voice trembling with her shivering body. Gibson looked up. Scully had a faint smile on her face, though her eyelids drooped. She was still very pale, but she was awake.

"I thought you were asleep," he said

"I was," she said, her smile fading, though Gibson thought that was due more to exhaustion than anything else.

"You were dreaming?"

"Mmm… yes," she said drowsily. A strange mixture of sadness and contentment was etched on her face.

"About Mulder? About Will?" 

Scully shook her head. Blankets covered her body so that only her head poked out. "About my mother," she said.

"A good dream?" Gibson asked. He wanted to keep her talking. He was afraid that if he let her fall asleep again, she wouldn't wake up.

"A very good dream. Mom and I were having Sunday brunch after church. We used to have a semi-regular tradition. She always tried to squeeze me for information. I would get so upset with her," Scully said. Her brow creased and her lower lip pushed out in a slight pout, chasing away any glimmer of a previous smile. "She only wanted to be a part of my life, and I wouldn't let her. How terrible is that?"

"I think all children are like that to some degree with their parents," Gibson said. Though some parents *aren't* as curious about *their* children, he thought. His own parents had rarely asked him about anything he was interested in. 

"I always felt like I was thirteen-years old when I was around them, especially when my father was alive. But I'd give almost anything to see them again." She took a breath. "I wish I knew what happened to my mother. I never had the chance to make sure she was safe when all of this started. I suppose it's too much to hope for," she said, glancing away, her cheeks flushing from more than her illness. Deflecting, she asked, "What about you? Do you remember your parents much?"

Gibson pulled his left cheek back in a half smile. "Yes, I remember them," he said, sounding more bitter than he'd intended or felt.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's all right," he took a breath. "I loved my parents. I think they loved me in their own way. I have many happy memories of them."

"You weren't close? You were very young when they died," Scully said.

"Not that young. I was about Will's age," he said. He wasn't sure how the conversation had turned to himself and his parents, and he was surprised that he wanted to continue the conversation, as much to keep Scully talking as to talk to someone about his parents. He'd been thinking a lot about them and his boyhood life lately, especially since William's arrival. "My parent's were never outright mean to me. They never hit me, or really even yelled at me. But they were cold. They never understood me, and I think I unnerved them, especially my father."

"Did they know about your ability?"

Gibson shook his head. "No. I never told them, but once they found out I was good at playing chess, things got a little better. I got to spend a lot of time out of the house, studying and touring and they got a lot of money," he said matter of fact.

"They used you?" Scully asked. 

"I didn't really mind. It was a mutually beneficial deal."

"That's awful." Scully winced as she adjusted her position slightly.

"Are you okay?" Gibson asked, sitting up quickly, moving closer to her.

Scully nodded. "Just a little thirsty."

Gibson grabbed a nearby bottle of water and helped her take a few sips. As he put the bottle aside, he said, "I realized later that you were the first person to really take care of me the way a parent is supposed to care for their child. I've never forgotten that." He looked directly into her eyes, and she looked away.

"And then I used you, too. Just like your parents."

"I never saw it like that," he said. Scully looked up, challenging him. "Well… maybe a part of me did, when I was a kid, but I also knew what was in here." He touched his chest over his heart briefly. "I understood the forces acting upon you and Mulder. Whatever anger I had at first went away when Mulder came to live with me, just after Will was born. I saw you through his eyes," Gibson said. Scully blushed, but Gibson knew she wanted to hear more.

"I know so little about his time away from William and me. We never talked about it, as crazy as that is," she said, more to herself. "I made him go. Did he tell you that?" Gibson nodded, but let her continue. "I was still angry with him for leaving. Stupid, isn't it?"

"No, not stupid. For what it's worth, Mulder tried to go back to you several times, but I managed to talk him out of it, and get him to come to his senses. They would have killed him. Not that he cared. He only cared about you and William and the truth. I guess not much has changed," he said.

Scully smiled. She stilled, and for a moment, she only quietly stared at nothing with a serene look on her face. Gibson tried not to pry into her mind, but he heard her thoughts regardless. In a fraction of a second, he understood all of the regret she felt for her past sins, and all of the love she had for Mulder and William. Gibson wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have her.

That moment flashed past. The contented expression on Scully's face dissolved into pain as her eyes fluttered and rolled into the back of her head.

"Dana!" Gibson sat forward on his knees, leaning over her. "Stay awake, Dana. Stay with me," he pleaded. She fought it, tried to obey him and then she was still.

Her breaths were shallow as Gibson continued begging her to wake up.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

North of Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

10:34 am

Mulder looked down towards the ground. His legs hung from his body like he was a marionette, dangling one foot above the dead winter grass. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tom rise above William towards the source of the bright blue light, towards the belly of the space ship that was also trying to take his son. Tom was moving much faster than they were. Mulder pulled at William's pant leg, then an ankle, but he had no leverage, nothing to anchor himself to. 

He strained to look at William's face, but he only saw the bottom of William's chin. He was looking up towards the ship, his arms were outstretched.

"I've got you, Will. I'm not going to let go. I promise," Mulder said, his voice already hoarse. He threw the arm that dangled by his side up, and grabbed onto William's other pant leg, clutching it just as tightly. 

William slowly looked down at Mulder. *Please, let go, Mulder,* William said without moving his lips. Inside Mulder's mind, his son had actually asked him to let go. To leave him. To let him be taken. 

"It's okay, Will. Let it take us both. I won't leave you alone!" Mulder said aloud. 

*You have to let me go.* 

Mulder looked up, his eyes wide, shocked by what William was asking of him. It wasn't just that William didn't think Mulder could pull him to safety, he didn't want Mulder to go with him either. He wanted to go alone. With Tom. Into an alien spaceship. Mulder shook his head violently back and forth, not able to get the words out. He wanted to tell William that he couldn't understand what happens inside the ships. Mulder had been tortured, Scully had been experimented upon. 

*Dad,* the word came softly, stilling Mulder, getting his attention. *Dad, I'll be okay. I won't be alone. I'll be right back.* The corner of William's mouth twitched in a brief smile, and his eyes pleaded with Mulder's. 

Mulder was not consciously aware he'd done it, but before he could stop himself, his fingers had relaxed, and he felt the rough denim of William's pants, the smooth leather of his tennis shoes, slip from his grasp. If there had been any sounds around him before, they had all fallen away. In complete silence, Mulder felt his feet hit the hard ground forcefully. His knees bent and he fell back. Instinctively, his hands extended to his sides breaking the fall. His mouth hung open, his legs sprawled on the cold earth, as Mulder watched William rise up faster, out of his reach, catching up to Tom. William watched Mulder until just before he disappeared inside the blue light; the doors to the ship spiraled shut an instant later.

William was gone. His son was gone. Just like Samantha.

And Mulder had let him go.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

On-board the ship

December 28, 2012

10:39 am

William blinked, seeing nothing but darkness.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, lifted his lids again verifying they really were open. There was still only darkness. He had never been in a place this black.

He worried that he had made a terrible mistake. He'd asked Mulder to let him go, and that would be his last request. How could he do anything if he couldn't see?

He felt fingers clasp his wrist and he gasped.

*It's okay, Will. It's me,* Tom's mind said to his. *Try to stay quiet. The light will come on soon. I think.* 

*I thought you'd never been inside a ship,* William replied, willing his heart to stop pounding in his ears. 

*Not since my abduction,* Tom said. *But I've seen diagrams. Lots of diagrams. And pictures.*

Slowly a light grew. William was not sure if it was his eyes adjusting to the little light that had been there all along, or if it was new, but at least now he could see Tom and see a little bit of their surroundings. They were inside a small, empty room, devoid of any significant markings or objects.

*Why isn't anyone here?*

*They don't realize who we are. The tractor beam was tripped automatically because of our DNA. They think we're supposed to be here,* Tom said. Inside William's mind, Tom's voice sounded like a whisper, even though he wasn't actually speaking. 

*Kind of a stupid security system, don' you think?*

Tom laughed out loud. "Yeah, I guess it is. But lucky for us they're such arrogant bastards." Back inside their minds, Tom added *We have to be careful, though, Will. We have to hide our thoughts from the others. It won't take them long to detect us.*

*Not a problem,* William said. He was less worried about the others hearing his mind than he was about completing his end of this mission. He'd been practicing as much as he could since yesterday, and he'd been able to do it on his own in the past, but moving objects with his mind on purpose had never been easy, and it usually required him to be in a heightened emotional state. Often it required him to be angry. *Will Mulder be okay?*

*He'll be fine. They'll ignore him at least until they discover us.*

*Good,* William said simply. He held his hand out. *Do you have the stuff?*

*Yes, right here. I grabbed two vials when I saw the ship.*

*Give one to me,* William said.

Tom hesitated. *I should probably keep them for now,* he said.

*If we get separated, I'm the one who has to finish this,* William said, hoping he sounded tough, keeping his hand straight out. Finally, Tom nodded and handed William one of the little amber jars filled with the Super Mesabi Ferrum serum. William held the vial up close to his face, peering inside through the glimmering liquid. *Let's hurry up,* he said. He clenched his fist, trapping the serum inside his hand.

*Let's try to find a door," Tom said.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Making their way through an alien spaceship in near total darkness, trying to find specific equipment with only vague recollections of quickly reviewed schematics in his mind would not have been Tom's first choice, but to his surprise navigating within the ship was easier than he'd expected. Somehow, being there felt natural to him. He intuitively knew whether to take a right or a left, hit that button to open a door, avoid that door altogether. He couldn't read the alien language printed all over various buttons and signs but he knew what the writing said regardless. That knowledge was sheer instinct and Tom suspected it had something to do with his telepathic link to the Grays on board. He hoped that link was only a one way pipe.

*Why is it so dark?* William asked. It was not only dark, but warm and humid, like the deep recesses of a jungle. The ship felt organic, yet lifeless. Tom touched a wall. It felt like stone, or soft metal. Various swirling and straight shallow grooves covered the wall. Tom couldn't see them clearly, but he knew they were pictographs and writing. They reminded him of Mayan ruins he'd visited in Mexico during graduate school.

*They don't like bright light. They're very photo-sensitive,* Tom's mind whispered. *They see better in near darkness.*

*I can hear them in my head,* William said.

*Hypnotic, isn't it?*

William didn't respond, but Tom sensed he agreed. It was impossible to explain to someone who didn't have telepathic abilities exactly how tranquil and yet chaotic communicating simply through one's mind could be.

*Come on,* Tom said. *Over there.*

They turned a corner and slipped into a narrow corridor, big enough for them to enter only single file, shuffling sideways. If Tom was correct, they were inside a maintenance passageway. Generally, the Grays were much smaller than humans, and even William had to bend his knees awkwardly to fit inside. They inched down the corridor like seashore crabs until they came to a small alcove in the wall, illuminated with incandescent lighting, no more than one square foot in size, located waist high from the floor. Surrounding the square were illuminated buttons with various symbols and inscriptions.

*This is it,* Tom said. *We should be able to use this to complete the first step.*

*It looks like a replicator,* William said, referring to the fictional device that could make an exact copy of almost any object or food.

Tom smiled. "Star Trek fan?" he asked aloud.

William shrugged. *I've seen a few episodes. My dad liked it.*

*This isn't exactly a replicator. The Grays are very advanced technologically, but not quite there yet. This is a molecular scanner,* Tom said, digging inside his right jeans pocket to pull out the little vial, holding it up to the light given off by the scanner. In this light, the liquid was a complex combination of colors -- reds, browns, and gold. It was beautiful. Hopefully, it would be their salvation. 

He placed the serum in the center of the scanner, and stared at it for a moment, his only movement the deep rise and fall of his chest as he took deep breaths. This was it. If he couldn't figure out how to upload the molecular structure of the serum, not only to the computer network of *this* ship, but to the fifty others like it around Earth as well, all would be lost. If he succeeded, the hard part was still in front of them. 

*Do you know how to do it?* William asked with the impatience of a boy not quite twelve years old. 

*I think so. I'm not sure what will happen when I start pressing buttons. We may have to move quickly. Do you know what you need to do?*

William nodded. *Yes, except that I don't know where the control room is,* he said.

*I'll be with you. We'll find it,* Tom said. He rubbed his fingers together nervously and licked his lips, looking back inside the little recessed box with a single vial of Mesabi Ferrum sitting at its center. *Guess there's no time like the present.*

Tom closed his eyes and pressed buttons. Maybe it was a foolish decision, but he let his mind guide his fingers, tapping as if to music. With his finger poised over the final button, ready to begin uploading the data and transmitting it to the other ship's computers, he felt a pressure on his right shoulder. At first, Tom assumed William was touching him until he remembered that William stood to his left side.

"I wouldn't press that button," a voice, much deeper and experienced than William's said. 

Tom's eyes flew open and he turned his head so sharply to the right that he was sure something in his neck popped. Jeremiah Smith stood there with his typically calm smile and kind eyes, crow's feet branching out from their corners. "How did you get here?" Tom gasped out loud.

Smith put his finger to his lips. "Shhh," he said. "They can't hear me, but they'll hear you sooner or later."

Tom swallowed. *I thought you were back at the camp,* he said, transitioning back to telepathic speech. *Has something happened? You were unconscious when we left.*

"I'm still there."

*You're a ghost?* William's mind asked meekly. 

Smith cocked his head to the side so William could see him. "No, Will. I'm not a ghost, but I'm not really standing here, either."

*I felt you touch me,* Tom said.

"The mind is a powerful thing," Smith said.

*Then we're having a shared hallucination?* Tom asked.

"I prefer 'vision'. I'm here to help, but if you press that button, Tom, you'll open a communication line to the control room. You were doing fine until the end."

*You were helping me… guiding me inside my mind,* Tom said, a little disappointed that he hadn't been able to do it alone. 

"Only a little bit, but mostly you were on your own," Smith said. "Go ahead. Press that one," Smith stuck out one long finger towards a small circular button on the panel's right side.

*Are you sure?*

"I'm sure. That writing is my native language, you know. Pressing the button will transmit the data accurately, but what I don't know is whether the others will be alerted to your presence."

*I guess we'll find out,* Tom said. He glanced towards Smith again and Tom was not surprised to see he was gone. Tom took a deep breath and pressed.

The button flashed a pale green. Text appeared on the small monitor above the alcove, but Tom was not sure if the message told him of his success or his failure. One thing he did notice -- there was no alarm -- so Tom finally exhaled.

*All right. On to the fun part,* he said, smiling at William. William smiled back and Tom touched his shoulder. *Let's get this over with.*

^^^^^^^^^^^

Outside of Washington, DC

December 28, 2012

11:52 am EST

"Ma'am, he's waiting for you," the Gamma Hybrid said. Claire had no idea what his name was and she didn’t care. All she cared about at that moment was the report glaring at her on the screen in her hands. Something seemed wrong.

Since she was responsible for cleaning up the mess Tom had left, she didn't have time to be star struck like her inferior boss.

"I told him, I'm not going up there. He may get off on being inside a Gray ship and seeing 'history unfold before his eyes' to paraphrase, but I have more important things to do," she said without looking up. Her boss had been nearly orgasmic when he'd learned he'd been selected to witness the Colonization Ceremony in person, but Claire had no intention of exposing herself to Tom Davis' synthesized vaccine. *She* didn't need it to survive and why take the chance? 

"What should I tell him?" the Gamma asked, his foot nervously tapping the floor, further irritating Claire. 

"Tell him to fuck off!" Claire shouted, jerking her chin up and glaring at the poor Gamma. "When were these readings taken?" she asked, thrusting the tablet PC towards the man.

"Um," he stammered. "Just a few minutes ago," he finally articulated. 

"Something is not right," she said to herself, looking down at the diagram on the screen. She was not a scientist, but she'd stared so long at the diagrams and readings and molecular structures of Tom's vaccine that she was fairly sure what she was looking at now did not match up. 

"Ma'am?" the Gamma asked timidly. "Is everything okay?"

If this guy didn't leave her alone, she was going to beat him over the head with an iron stick. Suddenly it hit her. Tom had something to do with this. She wasn't sure exactly what "this" was, but he was involved. "No," she said sharply. "Tell them to delay the ceremony, and tell them to initiate an alert."

"Excuse me?"

"Just go!" The man turned quickly and rushed towards the door to the office she had taken over from Tom. She turned towards the wall where the screen with blinking red dots hung. "And tell them to finish the sweeps for survivors immediately!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^

On-board the ship

December 28, 2012

10:55 am

Tom and William walked slowly through the twisting ship's corridors. Tom felt really good. The aliens on-board the ship were much freer with their thoughts than Tom had expected. The number of Colonists on-board added to Tom's ability to pick up on random ideas and put them together to create a clear picture. That picture showed Tom that the Grays were planning on having their Colonization Ceremony today. Very soon. 

An hour ago, that knowledge would have sent Tom into a panic, but now that the Mesabi Ferrum serum was uploaded into the alien intranet system, the news elated him. William wouldn't need to do anything after all. The aliens would release the serum on their own, believing they were releasing the vaccine. All Tom and William had to do now was get off the ship, which was easier said than done. 

When Tom had originally believed that the Grays would wait until New Year's Eve or Day, he assumed that he and William would need to sneak inside of, or close to, the control room to the alien ship. Once within range, William would need to use his extraordinary ability to press buttons with his mind to initiate the release of the pre-loaded serum into the venting systems of all of the ships around the world. Fifty all totaled.

Waiting for the alien's time table would have been too dangerous. Detection of their sabotage would have been likely the more that time passed. Now that Tom understood the ceremony would happen in a matter of minutes, not hours or days, he could allow for it to go on as planned. But, instead of the original vaccine Tom had created to immunize the Grays from the Earth's lethal iron levels, the newly uploaded and very deadly Super Mesabi Ferrum serum would be in its place.

This was too easy.

*How do we get out?* William asked. 

*Good question. I think we just go back to the room we started in and try to initiate the tractor beam again, go the opposite direction.*

A bright red light flashed on moments before an eardrum piercing siren began to blare. 

"What's going on?" William shouted over the horrible sound, sticking his fingers in his ears.

"Trouble," Tom said. "Wait here!" Tom stepped into a larger hallway, while William stayed back, hiding in a smaller hallway similar to the maintenance passageway they'd been in a few minutes earlier. Tom peered around a corner, and he was about to motion for William to join him when he felt long bony fingers from several sets of hands grab him, yanking him from his feet, catching him off guard.

"No!" he shouted out loud as they dragged him away.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

North of Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

10:59 am

Mulder sat in the same position -- sprawled and half sitting up on the ground -- he'd been in since the doors to the space ship had closed on his son. His body felt frozen, yet his mind raced, shuffling, considering and discarding any and every idea he had about what to do next. He needed to get on board that ship. There had to be a way.

Finally, Mulder looked at his boots, feeling the bones in his neck crack. A triangular shadow passed over him, then another and another. He looked up above him. Swarms of small fighter craft streamed out of the ship and dispersed in every direction.

Then the mother ship began to move southward, slow at first, then gaining speed. That jump-started Mulder. He sprung up off the ground and ran to the car.

As the ship moved on in what was likely the slowest possible speed it could move, Mulder followed it from below, his foot depressing the gas pedal until it hit the floor.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

10:20 am

Monica sat quietly with Gibson at Scully's bedside, feeling completely helpless. Scully's breaths had grown very shallow ever since she'd lost consciousness nearly an hour earlier. Even her trembling had stopped.

"There must be something we can do," Gibson said.

"She's the doctor. If she were awake, maybe she could tell us how to help her," Monica said. She stood up quickly, moved her hands sharply through the air in frustration. "Damn it! Things could not be worse!" She paced back and forth in the small area of the cave that had become the hospital ward. 

"Oh, God, Monica, I don't think she's breathing," Gibson said. He didn't sound like himself. He was panicked. Monica slid back over to the spot next to Scully she had just vacated.

"No, Dana! Don't do this Dana! Stay with us! You have to stay with us," Monica pleaded, shaking Scully's shoulders. She didn’t notice the rumbling underneath her knees until John burst through the cave's doorway.

"Monica, I need your help!" John said, already heading back out the door.

"John, Dana's not breathing. I need you over here!"

"They've come back!" he said, pointing outside and up towards the sky. "We have to get everyone inside the cave. The kids… where's Joy?"

Monica still did not understand what he was talking about. Had he not heard what she'd told him about Dana? 

"Joy's outside. John, didn't you hear me? Dana is dying!"

He took a deep breath, and she saw understanding and anguish in his eyes. "I heard you, but if we don't get everyone inside right now, we'll all be dead. The alien fighters have come back!"

She'd been wrong. Things could get much, much worse.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Washington DC

Spring 1999

Evening

Scully felt Mulder's breath on her neck -- his heart beating steadily in his chest pressed against her -- but he was not close enough. This was her safe place, her solid ground; wrapped up in Mulder's arms. Her chance at being a mother was gone forever, but in his embrace she wondered if there might be a chance at something else. Not a miracle, but a promise. A commitment. 

She felt him pull away. His eyes met hers as he smoothed his fingertips along her hairline, settling to cradle her neck at the base of her skull as he spoke. "Can I make you some tea and we can talk about it?" he asked softly. 

Her smile did not touch her eyes. He wanted to talk. That was so unlike the old them, but maybe it was a sign of things to come. "Tea would be good. Thank you," she said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. He kissed her gently at her temple, lingering a few seconds longer than a friend would, but not long enough for her liking. She considered turning her face slightly and kissing him on the lips. But just as she had hesitated earlier when he'd first embraced her, she did so again, and the moment passed. One among many.

"Sit down," he said without being demanding. "I know where everything is." He turned away from her and went about preparing tea. Scully sat down on her sofa wondering what was holding her back. She had been able to ask him to father her child, but she couldn't tell him how she felt about him.

A few minutes later, they sat quietly together sipping their tea, each sitting with one leg bent on the sofa and one on the floor half facing the other, stealing occasional glances. The silence was comfortable, not awkward like it had been since the moment she had asked him to father her child. They were not lovers, but they were so much more than friends. If she had learned nothing else from this experience, she had learned that. 

"I'm sorry it didn't work, Scully. I really am," Mulder finally said, almost timidly, like he was worried she would break if he spoke.

Earlier, during the drive home alone from her doctor's office, after learning the results of the IVF treatments she'd undergone for the past month, she'd considered what she wanted to tell Mulder. He stayed behind at her request and waited for her at her apartment. She'd known she would need time to absorb the impact of the results, whether positive or negative. She'd hoped to simply give him a detached explanation of what had taken place and what would happen next. "It worked," or "It was a long shot anyway," was as emotional as she'd wanted to become. But with each red traffic light, the greater her realization that she would never become a mother grew. Scully thought she'd accepted that fact, having long ago resigned herself to it, but watching her re-ignited hope snuffed out for good had been worse than hearing her initial infertility diagnosis almost two years earlier. Back then, she hadn't thought she'd wanted children at all. 

This time it was different. This time, she had dared herself to hope.

Scully breathed in deeply the bitter aroma of her tea. "So am I, Mulder," she said. She sighed, shifted her weight and began rebuilding the crumbled brick and mortar around her heart. "But, it's probably for the best. With our work, our lives… I made this decision so fast. It was probably very irresponsible of me. And I barely gave you time to think it over. That was unfair. This is better for everyone."

"Maybe it is," he said and despite them being the words she had believed she'd wanted to hear, her heart sank a little. "Can I ask you something?" he added.

"Of course," she said, blowing on her tea, watching it ripple to avoid looking into his eyes. She'd wondered why he'd said yes to her request in the first place. She'd never been brave enough to ask, but she knew his decision had been partly out of unwarranted guilt. What was worse, she had let him say yes in spite of knowing guilt was a factor. 

"Why did you ask me?" 

"Who else would I ask?" she responded without hostility, still not looking up.

"Lots of women use anonymous donors these days."

"Lots of women do," she said. This conversation seemed to be happening a little too late, which would make it easier to have. She felt the status quo of their relationship holding her back. They'd always been adept at speaking to each other in guarded half-truths and barely veiled innuendo. Even now after all that had happened between them, and all that she wanted, it was difficult for her to change.

Without the prospect of a child, she was afraid of losing him if she gave him the uncensored answers. He was her friend. Who else could she have trusted? She wanted the baby to know his father as a person, not a serial number. She could tell him those things. They were true, but incomplete. There had simply been no other option. She wanted to share the experience of parenthood with someone she trusted and loved. Not *someone*. Him. She would have a baby with Mulder or no one. If he didn't feel the same way, having that truth between them would drive them apart. She was sure of it. 

When she didn't say more, Mulder sighed and sat forward, placing his cup on the coffee table in front of him. "I should probably let you get some rest," he said. "I don't mean to keep you up."

"I'm not really tired," she said yawning in spite of herself. She sat forward and put her cup of tea on the table. Mirroring his posture sitting next to him with their shoulders almost touching, she said, "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

She gathered her courage and turned her head to look him in the eyes. "Why did you say yes?"

"You're my friend, Scully," he said.

"I see," she said, looking to her hands folded in front of her. 

He sighed and slapped his hands on his knees, pushing himself off of the sofa. "You never answered me," he said. He walked to the door, grabbing his jacket along the way and Scully realized she had let yet another moment pass her by. 

"Mulder, wait," she said, standing up and walking the few steps towards him. She touched his forearm, met his eyes and took a deep breath. If she couldn't tell him now, when could she? Maybe never, she thought as she exhaled. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for everything." Instead of laying her heart open, she pulled him into a final embrace that he returned warmly.

"Goodnight, Scully," he said when he pulled back. "I'll call you tomorrow. Make sure you're okay." He twisted the knob on her door and then he was gone.

She closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes, feeling the burn of unwanted tears once more. "Good night, Mulder," she whispered. 

Then she made herself a promise. If she got another chance, she would take it.

She exhaled and flipped off the light, blanketing her apartment in shadow.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

10:25 am

Monica watched helplessly as Scully exhaled a final breath. Monica touched two fingers to Scully's neck, but felt no pulse. This was unbelievable. Her eyes blurred and she wiped them with the back of her hand. Outside the cave came the horrific sound of the alien fighter ships as they circled overhead. They sounded like terrified animals shrieking mixed with an unfeeling, low mechanical drone.

"Monica, I need help finding the kids!" John shouted. 

Monica exhaled and took Scully's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. 

"I'll go," Gibson said, wiping his own tears. The sight of Gibson crying jarred Monica more, if that were possible. "You stay here."

"No, stay with Dana, Gibson. I have to find Joy," Monica said as she stood, not giving him time to argue and running out of the cave with John. 

The sky was bright blue and crystal clear. She shielded her eyes as she craned her head back to look up. As beautiful as it was above, the air was filled with terrifying noises and John had to yell for her to hear him. "They came out of nowhere," he said, pointing upwards as though she didn't know what he was talking about. The other residents of Canyon City, all of them Alien Replicants and nearly indestructible, ran past them in panic to the cave.

During the previous attack, the aliens had dropped something similar to bombs on the camp, probably not their most advanced weapons, but destructive all the same. This time they were flying back and forth in something like a holding pattern. 

Aiden came running up to them, skidding to a stop on the loose gravel. "You two need to get inside!" he shouted.

"We can't find Joy and the other children," Monica said, sticking her fingers in her ears to try to block out the pain caused by ships' noise.

"I'll find them. The Grays are looking for you. They'll pick you off if you're out here," Aiden said.

"I don't care. Tom said the children are in danger now, too," Monica said.

"Monica, John… get inside! I'll find the kids," Aiden demanded more forcefully than she'd ever heard him.

Monica opened her mouth to protest, but sudden silence stopped her. She looked up, and saw nothing. The alien craft had retreated out of sight, out of earshot. "Where'd they go?" she said, still shouting though it was unnecessary. The men looking up with her only shrugged to say they had no clue. The other Canyon City residents still outside stopped running to look up, too.

"That was weird," John said in a normal tone of voice.

"Shh!" Aiden said sharply, putting his finger to his lips and lowering his head slightly, reminding Monica of a cat quietly sitting on its haunches before leaping after its prey.

She almost laughed.

Then she heard the whirring of multiple helicopter rotors. Seconds later she saw them. Two choppers flew overhead to the top of the canyon, landing on the flat mesa above. The opening in the canyon walls was too narrow to allow them to land inside the camp itself, so they settled in the same spot where Mulder and Scully had first arrived days earlier in their truck.

"What're they doing?" John shouted, the sound of the choppers almost as loud as the alien fighters had been.

"Get inside!" Aiden shouted, his urgency back. "Get everyone together and get the weapons stored in the back corner of the cave. 

"What weapons?" Monica heard John ask at the same time she spoke.

"Are they aliens? I thought they were allergic to the iron," Monica said.

"They're Super Soldiers, but they've been inoculated, like those that attacked Tom and the kids at the parking lot."

"Then it's too late. Tom and William have failed," Monica said.

"No, these were test subjects, sent specifically to find us and destroy the children… and you! I'll explain later, but you must get inside now! I'll find the children!"

"I'll help you," John said, pushing Monica towards the cave. She wanted to know who the hell he thought he was. Joy was her responsibility. 

"John, inside the cave there are weapons," Aiden said slowly but forcefully. "They won't kill the Super Soldiers, but they might slow them down. Get the weapons, arm all of the adults and guard the cave. You're no help to me out here." Aiden gave both of them the most authoritative look she'd ever seem him give before he ran off towards the edge of the camp.

"Come on, Monica," John said, sounding a little like he'd been slapped. "Let's find the weapons." Monica felt him tug on her sweater as she started after Aiden, ready to disobey and run after him to find Joy. "He's right. The Super Soldiers will mow us down. *He* has a chance. *And* he's telepathic. He'll find her."

John took her hand, pleading with his eyes. Monica knew he was right, but she didn't want to listen.

"Please Monica," John said giving her hand a squeeze, tugging her towards the cave. "I *need* you over here." 

That got her attention. Reluctantly, she followed John back inside the cave to arm their little militia.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"I got 'em!" John shouted. He was bent at the waist with his head and shoulders inside a large wooden crate stored in a far back corner of the cave. His feet barely touched the ground as he searched looking like he was five years old and the box was a giant toy chest with his favorite action figure stuck at the bottom. Gibson would have laughed out loud had the situation been any different. 

When John finally stood up straight, he held two M16 rifles and what looked like a rocket launcher, though Gibson had never seen one in real life. John slung one rifle over his shoulder and carried the other two weapons in his hands, taking large strides towards Gibson and Monica near the cave entrance. "Gibson, make sure everyone gets a gun of some kind," he said as he started for the door. "I don't think Aiden knew about this," he said, holding up the rocket launcher.

"Where are you going?" Gibson asked, though he already knew the answer. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered asking.

"Aiden's unarmed. He doesn't have much better chance than I do against those guys, super human strength aside."

"John, Aiden told us to stay here," Monica said. "*You* made *me* come back inside! I'm not letting you go alone." She reached for one of the rifles, but Gibson spoke, stopping her.

"I'll go. You stay with them," he said, indicating the other Replicants. "Pass out the weapons."

"Gibson, have you even fired a gun?" John asked. "It's probably better if Monica--"

"Listen, you need me to find the children, to *talk* to them. Monica needs to teach these people how *not* to shoot each other or you, and the longer we argue, the more time we waste," Gibson said all in one breath. 

"Okay, then," John said quietly, re-shouldering the rifle Monica had reached for and handing the other M16 to Gibson. "I get the RPG launcher, though," he added with a one sided smile.

The two men turned to leave, but John quickly stopped and stepped back to Monica. Her brow was creased and her arms were folded, definitely unhappy with her assignment. John gave her a brief but firm kiss on the lips, stunning her slightly, before turning back on his heels and running out. Gibson smiled and followed close behind him.

Once outside, they could see several Super Soldiers, less than ten all totaled, making their way down the trail furthest from the heart of the camp, automatic weapons in their arms. The two choppers' blades continued to whirl from where they sat on the top of the mesa and Gibson assumed there were at least two more Super Soldiers standing by. For the moment, the soldiers seemed focused on something in the opposite direction from where John and Gibson approached, but Gibson couldn't see what it was. Whatever the Super Soldiers were looking at was hidden behind an out-cropping of rocks and a bend in the canyon wall past the spot that was regarded as the edge of camp. 

"John, we have to hurry. Aiden and the kids are over there," Gibson said, already breaking into a jog and passing in front of John. He felt a hand grab his arm, stopping his forward progress, almost yanking him backwards.

"Wait a minute. Are you sure?" John asked, his voice lowered, keeping his eyes on the descending soldiers. 

"Yes. They're gathered behind some boulders over there, past the narrow section in the riverbed," Gibson said, pointing for emphasis. "The Super Soldiers know they're there, but they can't see them yet."

"Why don't they just pick 'em off from the trail? Or use the helicopters to fire missiles like they did at the truck in the parking lot?" John asked more to himself, like he was working out all the scenarios in his head.

"They don't have a direct line with the choppers. The canyon is too narrow at the top. Plus, they want to make sure they accomplish their objectives," Gibson said. It was easy to read the soldier's minds. Their first objective was to kill the children, then come after the rest of them. "The soldiers can't get too close to the kids. They know what will happen now, but they also have to hit the children precisely to kill them."

"That's our chance then," John said.

"How many shots do you have with that thing?" Gibson nodded towards the RPG launcher.

"Just one. I didn't see any others or I would have grabbed them."

"Great," Gibson said sarcastically.

"Follow me. When we get close, I'll try to take as many of them out as I can with my one shot. As soon as I do, start shooting the rest of 'em. I don't know how long it will take them to regenerate, but maybe we can take their weapons away before they do."

"What about the two still up top with the choppers?"

"We'll worry about them when we have to," John said. "We might not get the chance, anyway. Come on." John ducked his head, crouching as low as he could get and still be able to run. 

Gibson was close behind John as they followed the canyon wall towards a small piling of boulders -- close but not too close -- to the trail where the soldiers were still descending. They hid behind the rocks and watched the lead Super Soldier approach the bottom of the steep trail. Gibson raised his head slightly and could just make out the tops of the children's heads. They were sitting in a circle barely concealed behind their own copse of rocks. Gibson could not penetrate their thoughts, but understood they were in the middle of something very important, so he reached out to Aiden instead. *Aiden, get the kids to lie flat! They'll see you soon if you don't!*

"Gibson," John whispered, jarring Gibson from his attempted link with Aiden. "When I fire, start shooting." 

Gibson nodded and John lined up a shot with the RPG Launcher. "I hope this thing works," John said just before he pulled the trigger. Almost instantly, a ball of fire and a terrific bang exploded on the trail. Gibson was mesmerized by it. It all seemed to happen in slow motion for him. He saw at least two soldiers -- parts of them anyway -- fly fifteen feet in the air and he watched the other soldiers turn towards John and his own position. The soldiers took aim with their own weapons and fired.

"Gibson! Now!" John shouted as he threw down the RPG launcher and picked up the M16. That shook Gibson back into real time. He pointed the rifle towards the indestructible aliens and squeezed the trigger. He thought he hit a few of them, but he couldn't tell for sure. There was so much smoke and dust flying up between him and his targets. 

Gibson heard John shout, "It's not working. They're not stopping. I'm going to get the kids!"

"No, John!" Gibson yelled, but not in time to stop him. John was already sprinting towards the small gap in the rocks that would lead him past the trail the Super Soldiers were firing from and to the children's hiding spot. "John! There's nothing you can do!" Gibson inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath, gathering what courage he had. He jumped out from the safely of the rocks and followed after John in spite of every rational thought in his brain, holding down the trigger of his weapon the entire time. He was certain they were both about to die. Bullets landed in the dirt all around their feet as they ran, and Gibson absently wondered how these super human aliens could be such bad shots, not that he was complaining. 

Somehow, they made it to the small group of boulders that Aiden and the children sat behind. The children sat in a circle, holding each other's hands. Aiden sat with his back against a rock just outside of the circle, his eyes wide as he watched John and Gibson throw themselves out of the Super Soldier's line of sight and onto the ground next to him.

"That was the stupidest thing you've ever done!" Aiden said, looking directly at Gibson. "I expected it from him, but not you."

"You can yell at me later," John said. "We have to get you out of here."

"John, the children will never make it. Maybe the older kids would, but not all. Besides, they don't have time," Aiden said.

"I think I hit a few of those bastards. That should slow them down. Gibson and I will distract them, and then you lead the kids past," John said, not hearing what Aiden had said. 

"No! There isn't time and it won't work. They have to help William right now. There is no time," Aiden said, grabbing John's arm, making him listen. 

"William is half way across the country," John said, his brow creased as much as physically possible. 

"Yes, and he needs their help. You need to keep them away as long as possible. Gibson," he said, turning his head, "do you understand?"

Gibson nodded. The children were attempting to communicate with William telepathically. Something had gone wrong on the ship and William needed their help, even if it meant they all died doing it. "John, follow me," Gibson said. He jumped up and ran away from their hiding place, in the opposite direction of the Super Soldiers, further away from camp. 

"Gibson!" he heard John shout. 

He felt a jolt of pain in his left thigh, then in his right calf and finally the metallic taste of iron-saturated dirt hit the back of his throat as he hit the ground. As the world around him went dark, he heard several loud booms and felt white hot heat scorch his back.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

On-board

December 28, 2012

11:32 am

For the past half an hour, William had been as still as a newborn deer in the thicket. Aside from breathing he hadn't moved, yet his mind scrambled to come up with a plan. He used equal parts of his energy to hide his presence from the others and to search their minds to find Tom. He didn't dare reach out to Tom directly out of fear that the aliens would pull Tom's thoughts about him and their mission from his mind.

As much as he wanted to help his friend, William knew that Tom could not help him anyway. The next step was up to him alone. 

He heard footsteps in the corridor near his hiding place. The aliens moved quickly, their legs like staccato rapping on a cow bell, echoing through the dark space. It was hard to tell with his ears whether they were really physically close-by, or several rooms away. Every sound William heard made his heart thrum. He pushed himself deeper into the narrow passageway similar to the one he and Tom had been in not very long before. This corridor didn't have a lighted box in the wall, or much light of any kind. It was dark and cold and he wanted to run away, but knew there was no place to go. 

He had to get to the control room, but he didn't know how to get there, or if his legs would take him.

"You have to hurry, Will," Jeremiah's voice said from the darkness. 

William gasped and covered his mouth with his hands to hold back a shriek. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his heart rate skyrocketed. When he'd managed to take a few breaths, get his bearings and inform his pulse that Jeremiah was a friend, William spoke. "I don't know how to get there. I'm afraid they'll catch me," William whispered.

Jeremiah put his finger to his lips, then tapped his head. The meaning was clear. William grimaced and nodded. He knew better. Speaking aloud was too dangerous. Jeremiah smiled. "You could probably walk right in there. They can't get near you. You'd kill most of them, but there are a few on board like me, so maybe it's better to keep it low-key."

*How?*

"You don't need to actually be inside the control room to push the button. You're close enough right now," Jeremiah said. As dark as it was, William had no trouble seeing his face. He seemed to have a thin glowing film surrounding him that illuminated his features.

William shook his head. *I've never moved anything that far away before. I can't do it,* he said. He sounded childlike to himself, like a scared five year-old. 

"Have you ever tried?"

William thought about it. It had never occurred to him to try before. When he'd first learned he could move objects with his mind, it had been *without* trying. He'd been angry or sad or frustrated. He'd slam a door, break a vase. Once he'd learned he could control this power, he'd gotten better about not breaking his parents' things, but he still would typically springboard off of a raw emotion. And he never thought to move something far away that he couldn't see with his eyes. 

He shook his head. 

"Then how do you know you can't do it? Close your eyes, try to imagine the control room," Jeremiah said.

*I don't know what it looks like, how can I --*

"I do. I'll help you," Jeremiah said calmly. Jeremiah had told William and Tom before that he wasn't physically on board the ship with them. But when Jeremiah touched William's shoulder, he felt the warmth of his fingertips through his t-shirt as if they were standing next to each other. It was extraordinary.

"Close your eyes," Jeremiah said again, his voice soothing and lyrical. William obeyed and lowered his lashes, shutting out what little light he'd been able to see. "Focus on me, on the sound of my voice. The control room is a large, circular room. It's dark with many lighted buttons. My people flit about in the shadows. There is no giant screen or captain's chair like you may have seen in the movies. It is void of comfort. Its purpose is functional only. Can you see it?"

William shook his head even though he knew Jeremiah's eyes were closed, too.

"Concentrate. You'll see it. Focus on my thoughts. Shut out all other voices."

*There are too many,* William said, creasing his brow.

"You can do it, Will. I believe in you."

William's eyes remained closed, but somewhere far away he could see a pale blue light. Soon, he saw another, and another until the lights formed a console. "I can see something!" William said excitedly in a loud whisper. As soon as he'd spoken a loud bang several corridors away reverberated throughout the ship, shaking William out of his heavy concentration. His eyes flipped open, big and startled. "What was that?"

He looked to Jeremiah, who looked towards the sound. "It's okay. They're still far away. They don't know where you are. Let's try again. You were doing well."

William closed his eyes, but all he could think about were the aliens all around him, searching for him. *I can't get them out of my mind,* he said, letting out a frustrated breath and opening his eyes.

"Maybe we just need some help."

*There's no one else. They took Tom,* William said.

"There are others," Jeremiah squeezed William's shoulder reassuringly. "Close your eyes. Focus on my thoughts."

William closed his eyes and tried. He found it was easier seeing inside Jeremiah's mind this time. But instead of a ship's control room, he found himself in the bright sunlight. The smell of dirt and quick lime wafted up from below. He looked to his feet. There was a white piece of rubber near his toes, and he was standing on a mound of dirt. A pitcher's mound. His fingers were curled over the red seams of a scuffed and dirty white baseball. *Why are we here?* William asked, though he didn't know where Jeremiah was inside this vision.

"This is where you feel safe," Jeremiah said. William looked towards the sound of his voice. Jeremiah stood near home plate, wearing an umpire's uniform, holding his facemask at his side, smiling. 

*How will this help me?* William asked. *We don't have time to play a game.*

"There's always time for a game. Maybe not baseball right now, but another kind of game."

William shook his head. *I don't get it.*

"Look around you, Will. Everyone has come to help you," Jeremiah said, pointing with an open hand towards the field in front of him and surrounding William. 

William followed the path of Jeremiah's hand. Like in his previous dreams, the field had suddenly come alive with fielders standing at their positions. This time he knew who they were by name. At first base, Christian stood with a glove on his left hand and a baseball cap on his head. He clicked his tongue and blew a bubble gum bubble. It popped. He pulled the sticky bright pink confection back inside his mouth with his tongue, and winked at William. At every position -- outfield and infield -- one of the children Tom had brought with him from the laboratory in Washington stood ready to make a play if a ball should be hit their way. Some positions had two children. William looked back to the plate. Crouching down in front of Jeremiah was the catcher. She wasn't wearing her mask and William recognized that she was Joy. She pulled her mask over her head and face and punched her thick catcher's mitt with her right hand. 

"Come on Will! We've got you covered!" Joy called out to him. 

"They'll keep watch, Will, while I help you with your task. If there's any trouble, they'll let us know in plenty of time to hide. Do you understand?" Jeremiah asked. 

William looked around one more time, then back to Jeremiah. Slowly, he nodded. 

"Okay, then… focus on my thoughts," Jeremiah said again, pulling his mask over his face.

The version of himself that was standing on a pitcher's mound closed his eyes and again tried to do as Jeremiah had asked. Almost instantly, he found himself inside the ship's control room, standing directly in front of a console full of lighted buttons.

He stuck his arm straight out, curled his hand into a fist and pointed his index finger. He heard Jeremiah whisper *yes, that's right* in his ear. William sucked in a deep breath and without exhaling turned his hand so that his finger pointed down. He moved his hand towards a button on the console, felt his finger touch the smooth, cold plastic-like material.

Then he pushed.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

10:56 am

Gibson struggled against unconsciousness. Both of his legs felt like they were on fire, but a different kind of heat washed over his entire body. He lifted his head, and twisted his body around so that he could see what was happening behind him. He expected Super Soldiers to be coming towards him, guns pointed, ready to put him out of his misery. Instead, he saw four roaring balls of flame burning on the trail where the Super Soldiers came from and watched as three more exploded higher up the trail where three of the Super Soldiers he had been sure he'd hit with his M16 had stood seconds earlier. As four more explosions shook the ground beneath him, he faintly registered in the back of his mind that the sound of the choppers rotors above him on the mesa had stopped.

Through the dust and smoke, he saw a figure running towards him. Finally, the Super Soldiers must have found him. He lied back flat on the ground and closed his eyes to wait for the end.

"Gibson?" a soft voice called to him. He felt warm, thin fingers touch his face. "Gibson, can you hear me?" the voice asked again. He opened his eyes a fraction of an inch, as much as his energy allowed.

He must be dreaming. Monica crouched over him, rocket launcher slung over her shoulder, smiling. He closed his eyes again. It was weird, but imagining Monica instead of seeing what was probably actually a Super Soldier standing over him was a much better way to die.

He smiled too, as consciousness left him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

On-board

December 28, 2012

11:59 am

There were ten seconds of silence just after William pushed the button. Then all hell broke loose. 

William looked up to the control room ceiling, which was lined with round ventilation tubes covered by thin metal slits. He heard a wooshing sound and watched as barely visible vapor poured through the cracks, flooding the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small gray figure with a large head bend over at its waist and fall to the floor. William turned his head and watched it writhe in pain until he saw another figure and another, each falling out of the darkness. 

Soon after, bright red lights began flashing, followed by an ear-piercing siren. 

"Time to go, Will!" Jeremiah shouted and William found himself back in the corridor. Like the control room, the corridor was flooded with vapor coming from similar vents near the ceiling, and the same siren blared. "They're going to crash the ship! Get down!"

In a daze and with the image of the dying alien still in his mind, William obeyed, hoping that one way or another it would all be over soon.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

12:03 pm

Mulder had no idea how long he'd been driving. Between making sure he was staying on the highway and not losing sight of the ship, he hadn't realized how close he was getting to St. Louis. The downtown skyline was still a bumpy speck on the horizon, but he could faintly make out the shape of the Gateway Arch shimmering near the banks of the Mississippi River.

The ship had steadily increased its speed, and Mulder had found that even with the Honda's gas pedal depressed all the way to the floor, he was losing ground, especially since he had to dodge the smattering of cars littering the highway. The ship had likely been going at its minimum speed, but it was too much for a simple terrestrial vehicle designed to take the kids to school at a comfortable sixty-five miles per hour. Just as he wondered if he was going to lose sight of the ship altogether, Mulder realized it was growing bigger through the windshield. The ship looked like it had parked just outside of St. Louis, then it began to descend towards the city, falling lopsided to the earth, right in the middle of downtown.

Even though it was not possible to make the car go any faster, Mulder pushed his foot into the pedal even harder. If the pressure wouldn't give the car more speed, maybe he could will the car to fly.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER THIRTY

St. Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

12:45 pm

What surprised Mulder the most was that there was no fire. The alien ship had leveled what had been the city of St. Louis, several suburbs and probably some outlying small towns when it had crashed to the earth, yet as far as Mulder could tell there had been no mass explosion. The craft had merely fallen from the sky and smothered or pulverized everything below it.

Mulder drove as far as he could and threw the car into park. In front of him was a massive wall of earth, at least a hundred feet high. The crash had not only destroyed St. Louis, but had created a crater in the city's place, surrounding the ship itself. Even the Mighty Mississippi was gone in this section of its long path. Mulder scrambled up the new mountain of dirt, felt the ground underneath him rumble, though much less violently than what he had felt when the ship had actually hit. He'd been thirty miles away, but the Honda had lifted a foot off the ground, and caused him to spin out on the highway, narrowly missing several stalled cars and nearly plummeting over a steep embankment towards the river. 

Now, he stood on the top of the new mass of dirt and surveyed the wreckage in front of him. Tom had told him the ship's diameter was close to thirty miles, and even from his vantage point high above the debris field, Mulder could not see the edge furthest from him. The ship itself seemed structurally in tact, though it was covered with unimaginable amounts of manmade and natural materials. Parts of buildings that had been on the edge of the city, rocks and trees, bridges, asphalt, metals, glass, the Mississippi River. Mulder even saw what he could only guess were pieces of the Gateway Arch itself. 

Somehow, amongst all of this, he had to find a way inside the ship and get to William. He would lift every rock, every scrap of metal and walk every mile of that ship until he found his son, or die doing it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

2:37 pm

Gibson could smell smoke. Not just faint and wafting, but thick like tar in his throat. Before he even opened his eyes his body spasmed as he wretched a dry, abrasive cough. He instinctively sat up, not wanting to choke, but when he did, sharp pain in his legs made him flop down again on his back thus making him forget his first problem.

"Whoa, take it easy, Gibson," John said from above him. Gibson felt a hand on his shoulder before he saw John's face come into view, leaning over him. 

"Try to drink this," Monica said, kneeling next to John. She cradled the back of his head to elevate it and helped him take a few sips of water. When he finished, he looked around. He was back inside the cave. Underneath him was a semi-comfortable layer of sleeping bags.

"What happened?" he rasped. As if the coughing and the pain in his legs weren't enough, his head throbbed at his temples. He squeezed his eyes tightly in an effort to lessen the ache.

"It's okay. You're safe. It's over," Monica soothed.

"You did it," Aiden's voice came softly before Gibson watched him step to his other side, opposite John and Monica.

"Did what?"

"Something stupid, but it worked," Aiden said.

Once Gibson had his bearings straight, and his mind had time to process his surroundings, his memory came back to him. He remembered running away from the hiding place, hoping to lure the Super Soldiers away from the children so they could complete their link with William. He remembered intense pain in his legs and a flash of heat like instant sunburn against his back. Explosions. He remembered multiple explosions. 

"Monica, was I hallucinating, or did I see you standing over me holding a rocket launcher?"

Monica smiled broadly. "I found an entire crate full of them hidden further back in the cave just after you both left. Nobody else even knew they were there. I made sure everyone had one, and we followed you out. A few of us circled up to the mesa from the back route and took out the choppers. I couldn't let you boys have all the fun, now could I?"

"What about re-generation?" Gibson asked, half expecting a gang of Super Soldiers to come crashing through the tiny cave door. He glanced over unconsciously and noticed the door was wide open. A bright beam of sunlight stretched through the four-foot tall opening touching just inside the cave.

"Not going to happen this time," Aiden said. "I'm pretty certain the rockets hit their sensitive spots, but just in case, the kids all walked over the remains." 

"The alien fighters?" Gibson asked.

"John and Aiden drove a few miles outside of camp," Monica answered. "They crashed. The aliens inside were dead, charred like that first one that chased us on our way here. We're not sure what happened, but it looks like the iron allergy."

Gibson pushed himself up on his elbows, grimacing from the pain, but staying in that position despite it. "It was William," he said, knowing instinctively exactly what had happened. He wasn't as talented as the children. He couldn't connect telepathically with William from that distance unless William initiated the contact, but he knew the mission had succeeded.

"That's what we're hoping," Aiden said. "It's what the kids believe." 

They were all quiet for the next few moments, the excitement from re-hashing recent events fading into calm reflection. Gibson glanced to his right, towards the corner of the cave they'd come to think of as the hospital ward. He saw Scully lying exactly where he'd left her. Her body was covered to the neck in heavy blankets in their vain attempt to keep her from shivering. Further past her on an air mattress that stood two feet off the ground, was Jeremiah Smith, still lying on his back, unconscious.

"Is he still alive?" Gibson asked.

Monica followed his gaze and nodded. "He's still breathing. He hasn't regained consciousness, though."

Gibson lowered his lashes. "Somehow, I thought after it was over, he would wake up."

They all became very somber, understanding exactly what Gibson meant. If Jeremiah was awake, maybe he could bring Scully back.

"His injuries had nothing to do with the aliens anyway. Liam did that." John said sadly. 

"No he didn't. The aliens have something to do with it. I’m just not sure what," Gibson said. "Or why it's still not over."

"Oh," Monica said softly. "I almost forgot. You should probably take these." She handed Gibson two cream-colored pills.

"What are they?"

"Penicillin. I think the bullets grazed you. Didn't appear to go inside your leg, but we don't want the injuries getting infected." She helped him drink water to wash the medicine down and then glanced over at Scully. Gibson knew she was right. The aliens might be gone, but this was still a changed world. Nothing would ever be easy again and even a tiny scratch, much less a more serious wound, could become life-threatening. He only wished Scully hadn't been the one to demonstrate that to everyone.

"I'm really tired," he said, lying back down flat.

"You should get some rest," Monica said. We'll all be here when you wake up."

Gibson closed his eyes and thought about the promise he'd made to Mulder to keep an eye on Scully. He wondered where Mulder, Tom and William were and when they'd come home and he wondered what he would tell them when they arrived.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

5:03 pm

It was getting very dark. Mulder had walked several miles across the ship, painstakingly checking every seam, every scratch, trying to find a way inside. His fingers and palms had scratches, a few of which were bleeding, though the flow was slowed by the thick layer of filth covering his skin. He barely noticed.

Moments earlier, the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the only light remaining was a soft halo of orange left in its trail. He wished he'd remembered to take the flashlight from the car before he'd started searching. With the fading light, soon he'd have to walk all the way back to get it or risk killing himself on the treacherous surface of the ship, which looked more like a battlefield than a space craft. Mulder supposed that was precisely what it was. A war had taken place here and all the casualties were entombed beneath his feet.

That was a bad thought. William was alive. He felt it. 

Mulder sighed heavily and kicked a small piece of smashed concrete sitting near his foot in frustration. He turned to begin the walk back to his car, making a mental note and arranging several manageable pieces of metal into an X so that he would know the exact location where he left off once he returned.

He hadn't taken three steps when he heard a low, rhythmic sound that did not sound like shifting debris or residual sounds from the crash. 

It was a voice. 

He became very still, strained his ears to listen. Several seconds passed, but he heard nothing. Even his heart sounded too loud, but when he didn't hear the voice again, he assumed it had been the wind and wishful thinking. 

*No, it's me.* The voice was much louder and clearer this time, originating from Mulder's mind.

"Will? Is that you? Can you hear me?" he shouted.

*No, but I think you're standing above me,* William said.

"Holy shit! Hang on, Will. I'm coming for you!" Mulder shouted unnecessarily. He frantically looked at his feet, and began shoveling any debris he could lift out of his way, creating a clean swath of space several feet in diameter on the surface. 

"How the hell can I get inside?" he asked himself, then louder, "Hold on, William. I’m coming!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 28, 2012

4:04 pm

John lifted his chin and stood up on his toes, hands firmly on his hips. He arched his back slightly trying to see the top of the mesa above the camp. Smoke still billowed from the ruined helicopters and it was beginning to make him ill.

"I think the fire's almost out," Monica said from behind him, reading his mind. She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned her cheek into his back. He smoothed his hands over hers, which were clasped near his belt buckle, and smiled. He turned his head back, trying to see her.

"I really hope so. Where's the fire department when you need them?"

"Government employees… what're you going to do?" she replied dryly.

"Someone should consider wiping out all government and starting over," he said, matching her tone.

"You should suggest that to your Congressman." She sounded drowsy, and he relished the warmth from her body against his back. 

"Maybe I will," he said laughing softly. "How are you doing?" He twisted around to face her, their arms still around each other.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I don't know. I don't know how to feel about this. It's hard to believe it's all really over. And I can't believe Dana's really gone," she said, her eyes filling with moisture.

"I know. Me neither," he said. He touched his forehead to hers and took a breath. "What do you think we should do?"

"You mean, with Dana?" she asked, pulling away slightly. 

He nodded. "She can't stay in the cave forever. I know it's going to be hard, but--"

"We can't do anything until Mulder and William return," she interrupted. "John, we have to let them say goodbye before we bury her. I can't even imagine how devastated they'll be. To come all this way together only to have it end like this."

"I've been thinking, maybe it would be a good idea if I took a ride to meet them halfway. Maybe even go all the way to Missouri," John said, scratching his stubbled chin. Absently he wondered how long it had been since he'd last shaved. Too long.

"What for?" Monica asked, stepping back from him so she could fully see his face. 

"We don't really know what happened. The kids haven't gotten a read on them since all hell broke loose," which had become the official phrase for what had taken place. "We don't know if they're okay, or if they're hurt and need help. If we wait, it might be too long. I'll follow their route until I either run into them, or reach wherever they ended up, not that I have any idea where that is. I figure it will be easy to see them on the road though. Not much traffic these days. Maybe I can get Aiden to come with me," he said quickly.

"Might not be such a good idea, John. You can't just pick up a phone and call for help if you get into trouble," she said, her weight on her left leg, hands on her hips, brow creased. 

"I have to do something, Monica. I have to get them home safe. Get them home to Dana," his voice cracking on the last words. 

Monica nodded, and the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over her cheeks. "Okay," she whispered. "You should leave soon."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Saint Louis, Missouri

December 28, 2012

6:24 pm

"Mulder?" William gasped. "I can't breathe."

Mulder registered the meaning of William's words several seconds after he heard William speak them. He had his son wrapped up tightly in his arms, squeezing like a python and not sure he could let go. He never wanted to let go again.

But he did. For now.

Mulder loosened his grip and pulled back to see William, holding firmly onto his shoulders. They both were on their knees facing each other, surrounded by sharp metals, concrete boulders and every imaginable material in existence, both of this world and beyond. The tiny exhaust hatch William had climbed out of stood open a few feet away, as bent and twisted as the rest of the ruined city of St. Louis. It had taken Mulder an hour to find the hole William had crawled into from inside the ship and another twenty minutes for them both to pry and kick the small grating away from the rest of the ship's hull. The air around them was chilly, not more than a few degrees over freezing, but both of them dripped with sweat. 

William was alive and it was all over.

"Are you okay? Is anything broken? Are you cut anywhere?" Mulder asked rapidly, scanning his eyes and hands across William's body, searching for injuries the way Scully used to mother *him* after one of his own mishaps. 

William panted, but smiled. "I'm okay. Not even a scratch," he said, raising his palms to prove his case. 

Mulder hugged William once more, but made a conscious effort to release him quickly, not wanting to smother him. Mulder couldn't imagine what had taken place aboard the ship or what William had been through. 

"I'm okay," William repeated with less conviction than before. "They're all dead. All of them. I heard them dying." William spoke soberly, but his was tone controlled. Mulder made a note to himself not to forget what William had just said and to talk with him about it later. Now was not the time for a discussion, but what had happened wouldn't be over for his son for a long time, regardless of how relieved they both were at the moment. 

"What about Tom?" Mulder asked swallowing the little saliva he had left in his throat.

William shook his head. "I can't hear him anymore. We got separated. They took him," William said, then repeated, "I can't hear him anymore." This time, William could not keep the tears from falling. His lip quivered, he squeezed his eyes tightly and fell into Mulder's embrace. "I want to go home," he said.

"Let's go," Mulder whispered. "It's time for you to rest, son. I'm so proud of you."

Mulder stood, picking William up in his arms. The boy offered no protest, whether from exhaustion or grief, and Mulder started the long walk back to the car, the first leg of the journey home. To Scully.

^^^^^^^^^^^

West of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

December 29, 2012

Dawn

Mulder should have been passed out cold like William, but as exhausted as he was, his mind was wired. It had only been slightly more than twenty-four hours since he'd slept, but a week's worth of events had happened in that time. All he wanted to do was get back to Canyon City, wrap his arms around Scully and let her see that he had kept his promise. He was bringing William home to her for good. 

At his current pace, they'd be at the camp by late afternoon, maybe early evening if his eyelids got too heavy. Without Tom to share the driving, Mulder knew it was only a matter of time before his body overrode his mind and forced him to rest.

He glanced at William, reclining in the passenger seat, his head resting on his hand and turned towards the window. William had told him a little of what had happened on the alien ship, but within fifteen minutes of getting on the road had fallen asleep. Mulder had briefly considered staying a while longer and searching for Tom, but William had made it clear that he didn't believe Tom was alive. Mulder hadn't known him for very long, but he'd come to truly respect the man. He'd died a hero, quite literally saving the world. As long as Mulder was alive, that would not be forgotten.

In the rearview mirror, the sun popped up above the horizon, shedding welcome light on the road and shutting out the darkness of a day Mulder would prefer to forget, but knew he never would. He turned his attention back to the road in front of him and saw a smaller ball of light, though less intense and whiter than the sun. As it grew closer, Mulder realized it was not one single light, but two lights. Headlights. 

A car was heading towards him. 

As it approached, it slowed. Mulder's first instinct was to speed up and pass the other car. In this changed world, it was hard to know who was a friend and who was not. But Mulder's curiosity and intuition caused him to follow suit and slow the car to a stop in the middle of Interstate 40, thirty feet from the white truck. The windshield of the other vehicle was tinted, but Mulder made out there were two people in the front seats, no telling how many could be inside the cab of the Ford Explorer. The doors opened, and John and Aiden jumped out, running the distance to Mulder and William.

"What's going on?" a groggy William asked, sitting up and looking around as if he saw nothing. William had inherited Scully's tendency towards morning fog. It had always been best not to require her to do any heavy mental lifting until a good hour after waking her up and at least two cups of strong coffee. Mulder imagined William heading towards a similar future.

"It's okay," Mulder said. "We have some company."

Mulder opened the Honda's door and slid out, using as much energy as he could muster. He didn't bother closing the door before walking towards John and Aiden who likewise were heading towards him. Mulder glanced back to see William following tentatively, sensing he didn't want to be left alone even if it was only a few feet away. William wiped at sleep in his eyes in an effort to clear the cobwebs from his groggy mind.

"What are you two doing here? Not that I'm complaining," Mulder asked, stopping a few feet in front of John and Aiden. If he'd been a little less exhausted, he might have flung his arms around them both, but as it was, he could only manage a weak but heartfelt smile.

"We assumed you succeeded in doing whatever you were doing when the aliens burst into flames and crashed their space ships outside of camp. We wanted to make sure you got back safely. We were right, weren't we? It's over?" John asked.

"It seems that way, though William and Tom deserve all of the credit," Mulder said.

"Where is Tom?" Aiden asked, looking towards the car, his eyes darting towards William who looked away. "Oh," Aiden said sadly.

Mulder lowered his head, looked to the asphalt and shook his head. After he took a breath, he raised his head back up. "He and Will got separated on board the mother ship. He didn't make it."

John opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it down tightly without saying a word. Mulder knew how he felt. What could he say that would be adequate?

"Yeah," Mulder agreed to John's silent sentiment. "The whole damn ship crashed. I hope you've already been to St. Louis, because if not, you've missed your chance forever," Mulder said without his usual fervor for sarcasm. He scratched the back of his head and sighed heavily. "Listen, I know you drove a long way, and there's so much to tell you about what happened, but do you think we could get going? All I want is to get Will back to camp, wrap my arms around Scully and sleep for a solid week."

John and Aiden stiffened and looked at each other when he'd said Scully's name. They seemed to be asking each other what to say next with their eyes. Mulder's internal alarm bells went off. "What is it? Did something happen? She's okay, isn't she?"

"Mulder…" John started. He tried, but he couldn't seem to maintain eye contact. 

"What is it?" Mulder asked forcefully, his voice rough from overuse and fatigue. 

"No, not her, too," William whispered, so softly Mulder barely heard him. 

Mulder stepped closer to John and grabbed his jacket, fisting his lapels. "What happened to her?"

"I'm sorry, Mulder," John said, his voice equally hoarse, eyes reddening. "The gunshot wound got infected. We gave her antibiotics, but it wasn't enough."

"Jesus Christ!" Mulder said, shoving John and turning away. He bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees the only thing keeping him from falling over. He felt sucker-punched. "Jesus Christ, she's dead? You're telling me Scully is dead?" he gasped.

John nodded, his face twisted in a grimace that looked about one thousandth as pained as Mulder felt. "I'm sorry, Mulder. We didn't want you to find out before you got back to camp. Didn't want to blindside you."

Mulder looked around, wiping his eyes to clear the blur. "Where's Will?" Seconds later, he heard the Honda's door slam shut. William sat in the passenger seat, folded his arms over the dash board and put his head down on them. 

As William's father, Mulder knew it was his job to comfort his son, but how could he do that when he had no air in his lungs and every part of him, inside and out, throbbed. This was not supposed to happen. 

This was not the way it was supposed to end.

Tears fell as Mulder's knees gave out and he collapsed to the pavement. "I was bringing him home," he said to his hands, praying that somewhere Scully heard him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The air was dense and oppressive, heavily surrounding his body and insinuating beads of moisture into his lungs. Jeremiah hated this damn humidity. Regardless of who was in power, the weather alone was enough to keep him from returning to his world forever, if he had his way. At least Earth had a diverse climate, beautiful in its unpredictability and atmospheric violence. His home world was as if they took the Mohave Desert, stuck it in the Bermuda Triangle and removed the Caribbean Sea. Dull, lifeless, air so thick you could cut it with a machete, and the same no matter where you went.

"It's not quite as bad as you make it out to be, is it?" the voice asked, from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Jeremiah looked up to the twin moons, far apart from each other in the waning sky. They were both crescent shaped, but mirror images of each other on opposite ends of the horizon. It was beautiful, he admitted to himself. Part of him longed to see his home world once again with his eyes instead of just his mind. Only a small part. He sighed heavily. "No, it's not. The years away fighting the Ruling Grays has tainted it for me. I will never see the same place I saw as a boy."

"That fight is largely over. Those who did not die are now significantly outnumbered. Perhaps there is a chance for peace."

"You would know better than I would. Wouldn't you?"

There was no response at first, and then silence was followed by a soft chuckle. Jeremiah was still getting used to the idea of God with a sense of humor. "That's who you are, am I right?"

"If I answered, where would you find the mystery in life?"

Jeremiah shook his head and smiled. "I think I'm getting a taste of my own medicine."

"Jeremiah, I was about to give you a kind of reverse "Sophie's Choice", but it seems you've taken away all the drama."

"Excuse me?"

"If you had wanted to return here, I would help you find a way back. The people here will need strong leaders with pure hearts to guide them from thousands of years of bitter rule fueled by revenge and a false superiority complex. They would welcome you home. Your family is still here…"

Jeremiah had not seen his family in a long time. His parents had died long ago, but he still had a brother and two nephews, both with children of their own living not far from where his mind had placed him now. His heart ached to see them again.

"You are giving me the choice to go home or stay on Earth?"

"The time has come for Man and Gray to unite as equals, but they will need guidance. There are those like you, like Aiden, and those like William still alive, and despite their best efforts the Colonists did not manage to destroy all of human kind. Though they must come together to survive now, there will be certain distrust, fear and animosity amongst them all. They need your help, but it is your choice to make."

"You want me to create peace and harmony among the survivors on Earth and lead them to a common society built from the ashes of a scarred psyche and planet?"

"It sounds ridiculous when you put it that way."

"I don't think one man or Gray can accomplish that."

"No, but look what one boy was able to accomplish with some help."

"My choice is to stay on Earth." That was not even a challenging decision. "But I have no idea how to do what you're asking of me."

"Maybe you can start by helping one woman," the voice said and suddenly the twin moons of his home world blinked out, and Jeremiah was plunged into darkness. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The car was his favorite place to be. There were always new, bright and colorful things to see through the window. The easy motion lulling him to sleep. Her scent, of something sweet and faintly flowery; her soft humming always assuring him she was there, even if he couldn't quite see above the seat between them. Quick glances, cheerful smiles in the rearview mirror. Her melodic voice… something about a "bullfrog," she was saying. 

The car was where he could have her to himself, where he spent the most time with her. The car had been his favorite place to be.

Not anymore. 

"Wake up, Will," Mulder said, his hand on William's shoulder gently shaking. "We're almost there."

William's eyes fluttered open. He expected to see her in the front seat, and feel the comforting restraints of safety belts over his shoulders and at his waist, a plastic, jingling thing hanging in front of his nose. But he was not in a baby seat. He was in the back bucket seat of John and Aiden's truck next to Mulder on his way to see another mother he hadn't been able to save in time. His first mother. His real mother. The mother he barely knew, yet desperately wanted to remember. 

He dug his hand inside his jeans pocket, clutched the small metallic object within. He pulled the badge she had given him for Christmas out and smoothed his fingers over the soft gold. She had told him it reminded her of the things she had to do even when she didn't want to do them. Like what he had just faced on the alien ship and what he was about to face once the car stopped.

The car was now his prison, locking him inside with only his too few memories and abstract visions. The car was his haven and he hated it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Canyon City

December 29, 2012

4:33 pm

They passed the wreckage of three alien fighter ships before finally parking at the edge of Canyon City, as far as the truck could go. The four of them got out of the truck slowly and without speaking. Mulder looked up to the towering, red limestone canyon walls that arched overhead, allowing only a sliver of light in at that point of the camp. He hadn't noticed how much this place resembled a tomb until now.

They walked a few steps inward in the direction of the main camp. William kept close to Mulder's side, his eyes trained towards his feet, turning Scully's badge over and over in his hands. They had barely spoken during the ten hour drive home since meeting John and Aiden. William seemed numb, like he had after Rob's death. 

They'd ditched Monica's Honda, allowing Mulder and William to sleep as comfortably as possible. Mulder's rest had been fitful. He knew he had slept, but he still felt exhausted. He'd tried to think of Scully, to think of her face, but each time he did he felt sobs crawling up through his belly and for William's sake, wanted to refrain from displaying such raw grief. 

The camp was quiet; the only sounds their feet shuffling on the fine dirt and rock ground. 

"John? Is that you?" It was Monica. She came around the bend in the rock wall, jogging a few feet to meet them. "I thought I heard you," she said somberly. "Mulder, I can't believe you did it."

Mulder heard her speaking, but didn't really register her words. He felt her hug him, though her touch felt more like biting one's lip after being injected with novacaine. Barely there. He heard John and Monica speak; Tom, William and his own name liberally spread throughout the conversation. "Monica," he finally interrupted brusquely. "Where is Scully? I need to see her."

Monica halted her chattering and turned towards him, her face growing serious. "She's inside the cave. Gibson is with her."

Mulder had no idea if she said anything else. He immediately broke into a sprint, running the hundred yards to the door of the cave. Before he ducked inside the open door, he heard quick footsteps slide to a stop a few feet behind him. He didn't turn around, knowing it was William. Mulder took a deep, shaky breath, bent at the waist, almost crawling inside the dimly lit cave.

In one back corner was a raised bed of air mattresses and another one near it about half the height. Both were empty. Seated in a chair near the air mattresses was Gibson, looking at Mulder with his usual unreadable gaze, his legs propped up in a makeshift ottoman of pillows.

"Where is she?" Mulder asked angrily. Oddly, Gibson smiled.

"Behind you," a soft, smoky voice soothed.

Mulder whirled around on his heels, nearly spinning himself right on his ass. She stood a few feet away, near the entrance to the cave, light from outside spilling around her body. "Scully!" For a split second, he wondered if he saw her apparition, then thought there was only one way to know for sure. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and stood up straight, lifting her off the ground nearly a foot. He buried his face into the crevice of her neck and shoulder, inhaling her corporeal scent and feeling her soft, cool hair tickle his eyelids. 

"Shhh," she soothed, her fingers gently caressing the hair on the back of his head. "It's okay."

"They told us you were dead," he said, his cracked voice muffled by her body.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm here," she said, pressing a kiss to his neck below his ear.

"Oh, Scully, I'm sorry. Your arm," he said stepping back slightly.

"It's okay. Good as new," she said, pulling him close again, squeezing tightly with her left arm to prove her point. Mulder glanced up. Behind her to his left in another corner of the cave stood a tall, older man with his arms folded across his chest. Jeremiah Smith smiled, and Mulder nodded a quick 'thank you', though Jeremiah had an enormous bear-hug of his own coming in the near future. 

Mulder felt small hands at his waist encircling his back and he looked down. William had wrapped his arms tightly around Mulder and Scully as they held each other. Mulder let go of Scully with one hand and pulled William closer to him, and Scully did the same. As the three of them held each other, the sobs Mulder had held back during the ride home spilled out of him.

Only now, they were born of unimaginable elation and relief.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

EPILOGUE

Canyon City

December 31, 2012

11:51 pm

The survivors of Canyon City brought in the New Year with reserved jubilation. They gathered together with food, drink and camaraderie on the cliffs towering above the main camp near the burned out carcasses of two military helicopters, remnants of the former world. During the past couple of days many had helped to gather bits of dried wood and other flammable debris which they threw onto one giant pile. Just after dusk on New Year's Eve, they set it ablaze. As the clock approached midnight, the bonfire continued raging, roaring towards the heavens like a beacon telling whoever could see it that they had survived and intended to thrive.

The community had decided to celebrate on the mesa overlooking vast open spaces and thousands of canyons, hundreds of miles of red rocks spread out all around them across the horizon, rather than in the camp itself as a way to say "that was our past and all this before us is our future." Canyon City had been, for many of them, their home for a very long time, and for at least a while longer it would continue to be their sanctuary, but it would no longer be their prison.

For three of the current residents, this night would be their last in camp.

Mulder and Scully walked with their hands loosely clasped towards the edge of the mesa, their backs warm as they moved away from the fire, their faces basking in the cool air in front of them. "Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow? We could wait a few days," he said. They stopped a few feet from the edge of a cliff. It was peaceful and private in this spot, though they weren't far from the exuberant cheers of the others. The sky above was a velvet blanket of stars which for the first time in a long time evoked a sense of awe in Scully, rather than impending doom. 

"I'm sure," Scully said. "I need to be certain, Mulder. I'm afraid if we wait… if she is alive now… something else will happen in the meantime." 

They had found William, and though millions had suffered immeasurably, total alien Colonization had been averted. Those two paramount goals, the culmination of their twenty-year quest, had been accomplished, yet not everything was finished. Scully needed to know what had happened to her mother. 

Just prior to the first waves of the Plague, while she and Mulder were still in Minnesota, Scully had sent enough serum to last her mother and her brothers' families for a month or longer. She'd included instructions on dosage and how to inject, but there hadn't been time for Scully to make sure her mother had received the package, or that she understood what to do with it. And there was very little chance that Bill would submit himself or his family to injections of a substance created by the sister he believed was dead to survive the impending alien invasion. 

Countless things could have and likely had gone wrong along the way.

"I know it’s a long shot, Mulder, but --"

"Scully," he said, touching his finger to her lips gently, "you don't have to explain. She's your mother." He slid his finger over her chin, down and over her neck to cradle the base of her head. "She's my family, too," he added.

Scully smiled broadly. 

"What?" he asked, his smile mirroring hers, with a touch of self-consciousness. 

"Nothing. I've just never heard you include yourself as part of the Scully's before."

"Is that okay?" he asked, genuinely unsure.

"Of course it's okay, Mulder," she said, taking both of his hands in hers and gently squeezing. "I've tried to tell you for years that you are part of my family."

"Now you, me and William are finally a family, too."

"Finally," she breathed. They were a family now, though it had come at an enormous price. "Are you positive he's okay with leaving Canyon City?"

They both twisted their hips and looked back over their shoulders towards the bonfire. William and Joy were poking sticks into the flames, creating mini-torches. They repeatedly snuffed them out in the dirt and dipped them back into the fire, lighting them again and again. William glanced up, likely perfectly aware that they were talking about him. He held up his torch and smiled wide enough that his teeth glittered in the firelight. He waved with his free hand and zigzagged his stick like a sparkler, drawing shapes in the night air. Scully and Mulder waved back before William turned back around, laughing with Joy and a few of the other children who had joined them.

"He said he wants to go," Mulder said, turning back to face her. "I think he's a little scared, though. His friends are here and this is where Rob is buried." 

It *would* be hard to leave this place. They hadn't been here very long, but it had been a welcome haven during a terrifying time. John and Monica had decided to stay for the time being, not wanting to uproot Joy so soon after all that had happened. The other children had been taken in by the entire camp in a kind of communal parenting, especially important now that Tom was gone. Christian had taken his death particularly hard, and Monica believed it was better to keep them all together at least for a while. 

"I could always go by myself. You could stay with Will. Maybe that would be better for him --"

"Not on your life, Scully. We go together or not at all. We're a family, remember?" Mulder said. "I think Will is going to be fine. Besides, with his abilities, he'll be able to talk to any of the kids -- or Gibson, Aiden, Jeremiah -- anytime he wants."

"Okay," she said softly. She hoped Mulder was right. Traveling across the country to places unknown with William would be challenging in ways she likely couldn't imagine this soon after recent events. Mulder and Scully would be taking the place of Rob and Susan Van de Kamp, the only parents William had known until a week ago. Though so much had happened to bring them closer together, there were bound to be many bumps in the road as they moved forward together. But they would move forward. Even with the dawning of the Fifth Age and the culmination of all that had driven Mulder and Scully since they'd met, there would not be time to relax just yet.

Well… maybe they had a little time.

Scully looked at her watch. In spite of all it had gone through, it ticked methodically on. The minute hand was approaching twelve and behind them, the others began their countdown. "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!" Mulder laughed and Scully followed his gaze to see William put all of his body into shouting along, so much that he looked like he might knock himself over. The other children matched his enthusiasm.

"SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"

There would be no ball dropping this year in Times Square, no New Year's Eve bash in Las Vegas, no fireworks exploding over the great cities of the world, but one tradition would remain unchanged. Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder's neck, her fingertips smoothing over his face.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!"

Mulder lowered his head and kissed Scully gently on the lips, the contact brief but tender. He pulled back and said, "The world didn't end."

"No, it didn't, Mulder," she said. Pausing, she added, "It was a close one this year, though."

He chuckled and drew her closer into a warm hug. "Too close," he said. "Happy New Year, Scully."

"Happy New Year, Mulder."

The cheers of the people of Canyon City echoed in the brisk night air, multiplying their voices by a hundred as they jumped and hugged and kissed each other. Scully wasn't certain who had started it, but one by one other voices joined in with someone singing "Auld Lang Syne." 

Mulder took Scully's hand and led her back to join the group of survivors, another family of sorts, who surrounded the bonfire in a loose circle. As they sang they gave warm nods to Monica and John, Jeremiah, Gibson and Aiden, and Scully hoped she would see them all again. They stood next to William and Mulder ruffled his hair, pulling him against his side, sandwiching their son between himself and Scully as they all swayed with the comforting song. They stared into the flames -- a symbol of destruction and renewal, of all that had happened and all that was to come -- and brought in the year 2013 together. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe it's finally finished! There was a time when I didn't think it would happen. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I had been thinking about this story for a few years before I tackled it, and from the time I started, it took me almost three years. Without the enthusiasm and encouragement of all of you readers, I don't think it would have been finished, so my heartfelt thank you goes out to each and every one of you. I also want to re-thank my betas, Ellie, boussh, and Jaime Lyn (for the first two parts). You guys helped me become a much better writer than I was when I started. Maybe one of these days I'll learn not to comma splice and use really odd phrases. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but there is a potential sequel to Mesabi rolling around in my mind. I won't guarantee it will materialize and if it does, I expect it to be much shorter, but the possibility is out there. Thanks again everyone! ~Z (4/17/2006)
> 
> ETA: The sequel to Mesabi Ferrum is real! Its called "Finding Tamoachan and the Escape from Mictlan". You can find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5265368 ~Z (12/08/2015)


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